Rawlings’s perfume that drifted to her on the night breeze. When she pulled up in front of Catherine’s brownstone, she realized suddenly that she didn’t want the evening to end.
“Catherine, I…” Rebecca began, turning to face her companion in the close confines of the front seat of the sports car. She faltered, wondering what in hell she was doing. She wanted to tell her how great the evening had been, and how much she wanted to see her again, but the very words felt foolish. Even if the timing weren’t terrible, which it was, she couldn’t imagine why a woman like Catherine Rawlings would be interested in her.
What could I possibly have to offer?
“Yes?” Catherine’s expression was warm and welcoming as she responded.
Rebecca flushed and looked away, her jaw tightening. She sensed Catherine waiting, but too many disappointments haunted her, holding her a silent hostage.
Catherine touched Rebecca’s arm gently, causing her to look at her in surprise. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”
“Me, too,” Rebecca answered, amazed at how good it felt to say that. “A very good time.” She hesitated, took a breath. “Maybe we could do it again?”
“I’d like that.” Then Catherine added, hoping that her intuition wasn’t way off base, “Rebecca, for the record…I’m a lesbian. If you didn’t already know that, I’m sure you would soon. Also, not necessarily for the record, I find you very attractive.”
Rebecca’s pulse quickened. “I should say something suave right now, and I’ll be damned if I can think of anything.”
Catherine laughed, then continued seriously, “I have no idea what your situation is, or what your interests might be, or even if…” She stopped, realizing that she was in danger of babbling, which was completely unlike her. “I
do
want to see you again. I just want you to know that I have no intention of doing anything to make you uncomfortable.”
Unable to hide the quick surge of pleasure, Rebecca grinned. “Catherine, there is
nothing
about you that makes me uncomfortable.”
The doctor grinned back as she slipped from the car. “That, Detective Sergeant Frye, is very good news.”
Rebecca waited until Catherine had unlocked and opened her door before pulling away. Catherine stood, her hand on the doorknob, watching Rebecca drive out of sight. They were both still smiling.
Chapter Eight
At 7:45 the next morning, Rebecca met Jeff in the squad room. It was their morning routine to review open cases and map out the day while they got jump-started with the high-octane dregs of the night shift’s coffee.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, regarding her across their file-strewn desktops. He deferred to her not so much because she outranked him but out of long habit. He’d worked with her since he was a rookie detective, and he was comfortable with her steering their investigations.
Rebecca grimaced. “I’ve got a court appearance at noon to give evidence in that racketeering trial. Until we get something from the crime scene techs, I thought we’d finish some of the paperwork on the cases heading for the dead files.”
These were inactive investigations, cold trails abandoned for lack of leads after fruitless weeks of searching or, even more frustrating, cases where witnesses were unwilling to appear in court. She hated to abandon cases she knew she could get convictions on, but too often, people refused to cooperate, either from fear of exposure or retaliation. It was another disheartening part of working Vice she had learned to live with.
He scowled at the mountain of paperwork piled on his desk, muttering, “I can’t face this today.”
“Give me some,” Rebecca said amiably, reaching out a hand. “I’m just filling time until court. I was going to drop by the lab just to make a little noise. See if I can shake anything out of Flanagan. It’ll keep.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow and took a good look at his partner. She was dressed as usual in
“Catherine, I…” Rebecca began, turning to face her companion in the close confines of the front seat of the sports car. She faltered, wondering what in hell she was doing. She wanted to tell her how great the evening had been, and how much she wanted to see her again, but the very words felt foolish. Even if the timing weren’t terrible, which it was, she couldn’t imagine why a woman like Catherine Rawlings would be interested in her.
What could I possibly have to offer?
“Yes?” Catherine’s expression was warm and welcoming as she responded.
Rebecca flushed and looked away, her jaw tightening. She sensed Catherine waiting, but too many disappointments haunted her, holding her a silent hostage.
Catherine touched Rebecca’s arm gently, causing her to look at her in surprise. “I had a wonderful time tonight.”
“Me, too,” Rebecca answered, amazed at how good it felt to say that. “A very good time.” She hesitated, took a breath. “Maybe we could do it again?”
“I’d like that.” Then Catherine added, hoping that her intuition wasn’t way off base, “Rebecca, for the record…I’m a lesbian. If you didn’t already know that, I’m sure you would soon. Also, not necessarily for the record, I find you very attractive.”
Rebecca’s pulse quickened. “I should say something suave right now, and I’ll be damned if I can think of anything.”
Catherine laughed, then continued seriously, “I have no idea what your situation is, or what your interests might be, or even if…” She stopped, realizing that she was in danger of babbling, which was completely unlike her. “I
do
want to see you again. I just want you to know that I have no intention of doing anything to make you uncomfortable.”
Unable to hide the quick surge of pleasure, Rebecca grinned. “Catherine, there is
nothing
about you that makes me uncomfortable.”
The doctor grinned back as she slipped from the car. “That, Detective Sergeant Frye, is very good news.”
Rebecca waited until Catherine had unlocked and opened her door before pulling away. Catherine stood, her hand on the doorknob, watching Rebecca drive out of sight. They were both still smiling.
Chapter Eight
At 7:45 the next morning, Rebecca met Jeff in the squad room. It was their morning routine to review open cases and map out the day while they got jump-started with the high-octane dregs of the night shift’s coffee.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, regarding her across their file-strewn desktops. He deferred to her not so much because she outranked him but out of long habit. He’d worked with her since he was a rookie detective, and he was comfortable with her steering their investigations.
Rebecca grimaced. “I’ve got a court appearance at noon to give evidence in that racketeering trial. Until we get something from the crime scene techs, I thought we’d finish some of the paperwork on the cases heading for the dead files.”
These were inactive investigations, cold trails abandoned for lack of leads after fruitless weeks of searching or, even more frustrating, cases where witnesses were unwilling to appear in court. She hated to abandon cases she knew she could get convictions on, but too often, people refused to cooperate, either from fear of exposure or retaliation. It was another disheartening part of working Vice she had learned to live with.
He scowled at the mountain of paperwork piled on his desk, muttering, “I can’t face this today.”
“Give me some,” Rebecca said amiably, reaching out a hand. “I’m just filling time until court. I was going to drop by the lab just to make a little noise. See if I can shake anything out of Flanagan. It’ll keep.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow and took a good look at his partner. She was dressed as usual in
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