The frazzled dispatcher, sweating profusely in her blue uniform, turned to her from the computer console.

"Jeff Cruz is not responding to his calls. The Captain wants to see you pronto."

Rebecca swore under her breath as she hurried to the glass enclosed office at the end of the hall. She rapped at the door marked "Captain John Henry" in peeling black letters. The black man behind the desk was fiftyish, fit and big. His iron grey hair was cut short, and his demeanor authoritative. The white shirt he wore was stiff with starch, and his tie was tightly knotted, even in the ninety degree heat.

"Wheres your partner?" he barked without preamble as Rebecca entered his office.

"I dont know," Rebecca said with a worried frown. "He had a meet with Ronnie Carmichael, the undercover guy working the Zamora case. Hes the one we think is running the kiddy porn business in the tenderloin."

"Yeah, I read the file. Where was the meet?"

"They change locations every time. It was just a routine check-in, Captain. Carmichael hadnt come up with much, at least not that we knew about."

Captain Henry didnt comment. Cruz and Frye were his best team, and he gave them a lot of slack to run their own cases. It wasnt unusual for them to be involved with other divisions, particularly narcotics, on cooperative investigations. They werent careless. If Cruz was in trouble, he had walked into something he hadnt expected.

Rebecca was thinking the same thing. Something felt wrong.

"I dont like it, Captain. Somethings gone down. We need to find himfast."

"Weve got an all points out on him and his car. Well get a fix on him soon."

"What about the contactCarmichael?"

Henry fanned his hands out over his desk. "No word. Theyre both out there loose somewhere."

Rebecca turned abruptly and headed toward the door. She had to find Jeff, and she knew him better than anyone. It could take all night for a cruiser to spot his car. She wasnt going to leave him out there alone.

"Frye!" Henry called. "I want you here, coordinating the search, until we have something definite."

"Let Rogers do it," she said, whirling to face him, her jaw set stubbornly.

"I wantyouon it, Frye." He stared back at her. His expression changed slightly, and he lowered his voice. "Weve got two missing cops already. I dont want you out there alone."

"But Jeff"

"Thats an order, Frye."

She gritted her teeth, and nodded. "Yes, sir."

**********

When Rebecca entered the squad room, the noise level suddenly dropped. Feet shuffled, someone cleared his throat, a few people looked away. Everyone knew what she must be feelingher anger, her helplessnessand none of them quite knew what to say. So they handled it the way they always did, by doing the job, by carrying on. Someone put a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hand.

She sat at her desk, fists clenched in her pockets, and watched the clock. The men from the day shift stayed, even though many of them had been on duty for close to eighteen hours by then. Gina Simmons, a young rookie, came in silently and piled boxes of pizza on the littered coffee table. Rebecca shook her head when someone offered her a slice. They stood around in groups eating, spilling bits of oil and cheese on the floor.

The call finally came in at ten-thirty. A cruiser had spotted Jeffs car on a deserted pier at the waterfront. Rebecca was on her feet and halfway to the door when a hand on her arm restrained her.

"Ill ride with you, Frye."

Rebecca turned toward the stocky man beside her, struggling to control her temper. She had never liked William Watts. He was a lonera cynical, caustic cop who didnt seem to give a damn about his job. She couldnt figure out why he was a cop, and she didnt want to deal with him now.

"Not tonight, Watts," she said tersely, brushing off his hand.

He jerked his head toward the hallway, his face impassive. "Captains orders."

She turned on heel, heading toward the stairs. She didnt have time to waste on this. Watts hurried after her.

Rebecca gunned the MG out of the lot and slapped the red light onto her roof. When the traffic ahead didnt yield fast enough, she veered around them into the oncoming lanes. They were the first to reach the scene. There were cruisers pulled off the four-lane highway at odd angles, and men with dogs were combing the waterfront.

Rebecca climbed out and surveyed the area. Jeffs car was parked under an overpass, the only civilian vehicle in sight. To her right a huge crane stood like a lonely sentinel over the abandoned site of someones waterfront dream. To her left, facing the water, were a cluster of darkened buildingsthe maritime museum, an attached souvenir shop, and a curb-side hotdog stand.

She headed toward the buildings, Watts close behind her. She neither spoke to him nor acknowledged his presence.

"Why not the crane?" he asked, out of breath from the pace Rebecca had set.

"Too obvious during the daythere wouldnt have been enough people around for cover," she answered tersely, still not looking at him.

"Yeah, but the way I see it"

She turned so fast he collided with her, his bulky form bouncing back a step off her surprisingly hard body.

"Look, Watts," she seethed. "I dont give a rats asswhatyou think. Iknowmy partner. So just keep out of my way, or better yet, get lost."

Watts held both hands up in the air in front of him. "Okay, Frye, okay. Ill just tag along like a good little boy."

Wordlessly, she walked away. If Jeff had met his contact in the late afternoon, there wouldnt have been much activity anywhere except at the museum. They never spent much time at a meet. He hadnt left voluntarily; he would have taken his car. Something went wrong, and it happened here. She tried not to think about what might have happened, focusing on her search.

She walked around the maritime museum, looking for an alley way, or a loading docksome secluded area. She reasoned that no one would have tried to move two men very far in daylight, which meant they would have needed an isolated location nearby. But for what purpose? It was unlikely that anyone would hold two cops hostage, or try to extort information. She didnt want to think about the most likely reasonthat someone was sending them a message to stay clear of Zamora and his bosses.

There was nowhere to hide two men anywhere around the building. She shined her flashlight on the beer and burger stand, closed and shuttered for the night. There was a large green commercial dumpster behind it. Rebecca approached it slowly, sweeping the ground around it with her light. She held her 9mm automatic in the other hand. She illuminated bits of refuse, a soggy cardboard box, a dented milk cratenothing unusual. She looked at the dumpster, a knot of tension burning in her gut. She slipped her weapon into her shoulder holster and pushed the top up. Taking a deep breath, she played her light over its contents. It was half full of crushed boxes, rotting vegetables, and broken bottles. That was all.

"Uh, Frye" Watts said hesitantly from the spot where he had been standing in the shadows.

"What?"

"Theres a shipping platform just north of the marina. Its below ground levelthey used to use it to tie the tugs up to. Cant really see it from the pier unless you know its there."

"Show me."

He led her along the edge of the pier, the water ten feet below them, rolling against the huge wooden pilings and concrete walls. Fifty feet from the marina was a narrow set of stairs barricaded by a length of chain. They would be easy to miss unless you were looking for them. The chains were rusted from years of disuse and exposure. Rebecca could make out moss-covered stone stairs and some kind of platform anchored against the pier, floating on the water. Carefully, she stepped over the chain and started down.

They were lying side by side no apparent sign of a struggle. Both men had been shot once in the back of the head. Rebecca noticed that Jeffs tie was neatly knotted under the button down collar of his light blue oxford shirt. His gun was still in its holster. She reached down and closed his eyes.

Standing at the edge of the dock she looked out across the water at their sister city. The shoreline sparkled in the moonlight. The river churned two feet below her, and the cold wind off the water whipped her light jacket around her. She didnt notice the cold, or that she was shivering. It was so quiet.

"Frye?" Watts called from above. "You find anything?"

"Yes," she answered hollowly.

"You want an ambulance?"

"No."

Chapter Ten

Rebecca drove to a run-down bar where she wasnt likely to meet anyone she knew. It was three in the morning. She had just left Shelly Cruz. There hadnt been any way to make it easy. She had held Jeffs wife, rocking her through the worst of it. Even as she murmured meaningless words of comfort, she felt her own heart grow cold. She couldnt let the pain throughif she did, shed fall apart. She was a coppeople die on the streets every dayneedlessly, senselessly. This time it was her partner, her best friend. Shed handle it like Jeff would have if it had been herlike a cop. But first she needed to forget, just for a little while. Then shed be ready to carry on.

The bar was nearly deserted, as she expected it to be. No one who had anywhere to go, or anyone to go to, was still about. Like her, the few people slumped in the shadowy bar sought no company. The bartender looked up disinterestedly from the girlie magazine lying on the long counter in front of him. Nothing surprised him anymore, not even the appearance of a good-looking woman in a dive like this. Besides, this one didnt look like she wanted anything but a drink, fast.

"Whatll you have?"

"Scotch, doublestraight up."

He poured it neatly, slid it in front of her and moved away. Rebecca stared at the glass for a moment, then reached for it with a steady hand.

**********

Catherine awoke instantly at the first buzz of the doorbell. Her ability to move from deep sleep to instant alertness was ingrained in her from years of medical training. She sat up, glancing at the digital clock beside her bed. It read four fifty-three am. She reached for the pale blue robe that lay across the foot of the bed, swinging her long legs to the floor. She had been naked under the covers. Hastily she tied the sash as she hurried through the living room, snapping on a table lamp as she passed.

As she fumbled with the deadbolt, she asked, "Who is it?"

"Rebecca Frye."

Catherine hesitated with surprise and then hurriedly pulled the door open. Rebecca was slouched against the doorjamb. She looked terrible. She was in the same clothes she had worn the day before, and her usually impeccable suit was grimy and wrinkled. Her face was white, and there was a frightening vacancy in her normally vibrant blue eyes. Her short, thick blond hair was disheveled, as if she had run her hands through it countless times. Catherine grasped her arm and pulled her inside.

"What is it?" she asked, leading Rebecca to the sofa.

Rebecca sank heavily into the plush cushions, her head dropping back wearily. She took a deep shuddering breath, turning her face slightly toward Catherine, who was sitting close beside her.

"My partner, Jeff Cruz, was murdered tonight--him and another cop," she said flatly, her pain-filled eyes not registering Catherines shock. She didnt feel Catherine move closer, nor the protective arm she slipped around her shoulders.

"God, Rebecca, Im so sorry!"

"He was twenty-nine years old. Hed only been married a year. He was a good cop." She thought of the six years that she and Jeff had been partners and knew that no one would ever be able to fill his place in her life.

"He must have been very important to you," Catherine said gently, her hand resting softly on Rebeccas rigid back.

Rebecca shrugged. "We were copshe looked after my skin, and I looked after his." Her voice broke on the next words. "Until today."

So much pain! If only you would let someone share it!Catherine remained still, resisting the urge to gather Rebecca to her and comfort her.Just talk to me; let me help!

Eventually Rebecca began to speak, quietly, as if she were talking to herself.

"He took a chance for me a few years ago. My life was a mess. My lover had left me--she said I was never there for her--and even when I was around, it wasnt enough. She was tired of being a "cops wife." Rebecca laughed bitterly. "She was right. I wasnt taking very good care of her. After that, I drifted in and out of affairs--none of them worked out. My drinking got much worse. I was drinking during the day--on duty--and Jeff knew it. I was a hazard--to him, to myself -- to everyone." She stopped then, and looked at Catherine, expecting to find rejection, or disgust. That was certainly the way she felt about herself. Instead she found the same tender acceptance that welcomed her each time they met.