Free In Pursuit of Justice by Radclyffe Page B

dried up—nothing but dead ends. Then the Blake thing sidetracked us. Maybe this Internet investigation will give us a break.”
    Catherine listened to Rebecca talk about her partner Jeff Cruz as if he were still alive. Of course, he had only been dead a few days before Rebecca herself had been shot, and the two intervening months had an aura of unreality about them. Time and events had been suspended while the detective struggled to survive and then to heal. It was no wonder that Rebecca hadn’t really assimilated the hard truth of his death. What in God’s name is the police psychologist thinking to let her work? She’s barely recovered physically, and she hasn’t even begun to deal with everything that’s happened emotionally.
    “What Internet angle?” Catherine asked, trying unsuccessfully to quell her anger. She couldn’t believe that Rebecca’s superiors didn’t know that this was a tacit approval for her to go back to street duty.
    “The feds brought a couple of civilian computer hotshots on board, at least that’s what I think they are. They’re going to try to contact some of these characters on the Internet.”
    “Why civilians? That seems unusual.”
    “It would be if this was any other kind of case, but we sure don’t have anyone with the technical know-how of these people.” Sloan had shed a little light on the situation, but she knew damn well there was more that the woman hadn’t told her. “Apparently, there are so many problems with hackers on the national level with corporate and even military break-ins that the feds are stretched thin enough to see through in computers crimes investigations. They’re recruiting college kids to fill in the gaps.”
    Rebecca pushed open the car door and caught her breath as a sharp twinge knifed down her left arm. “Let me run in and get dinner.” Carefully, she slid the rest of the way out and straightened up. The pain was gone.
    Catherine watched her cross the sidewalk, wondering if the detective really thought she hadn’t noticed that quickly suppressed grimace of pain. When Rebecca returned, by unspoken agreement they avoided further talk of her new assignment, letting casual conversation and easy silences dissipate the vestiges of tension.
    “I’ll get plates,” Catherine said as she dropped her briefcase by the door, and Rebecca carried the takeout toward the coffee table in front of the sofa. Walking into the kitchen, she called, “Want soda?”
    “Just water is fine,” Rebecca answered, settling wearily on the couch. She glanced at her watch, amazed to see that it was only 10:20. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and absently rubbed the ache in her chest.
    A minute later, Catherine returned, balancing plates, silverware, and napkins. She stopped a few feet from the sofa and quietly set the items on the table. Carefully, she lifted a light throw she kept on the back of the nearby chair and spread it over the slumbering woman. She could wake her, but Rebecca was already deeply asleep. If she awakened before dawn, she would come to bed. If she didn’t, Catherine would sleep well knowing that for tonight at least, her lover was safe. That thought comforted her, but there was a dull ache of loneliness in her heart as she turned off the light and made her way by the dim light of the moon through the quiet apartment toward the bedroom.

    *

    Across town, J. T. Sloan leaned against the window’s edge in the large darkened loft, staring into a night only faintly illuminated by the glow from ships moving slowly on the wide expanse of river a few hundred yards below. Off to the left, the huge steel bridge arched over the water, its towering arches outlined with rows of small blue lights. She’d stood in the same spot countless times before, but the melancholy that had once been her companion was gone.
    The muted sounds of the elevator ascending in the background brought a smile to her lips. The reason for her present contentment had just arrived.