Shield of Justice Read Free

circumstances.”
    Catherine regarded Rebecca silently for a moment. She would have been irritated by her seemingly callous suspicions of Janet’s condition, when Janet was clearly a victim herself, if she hadn’t recognized the detective’s frustration and fatigue. Everything about her, from the barely contained tension in her body to the rage simmering in her voice, made it obvious that this case affected her strongly.
    “I have known Janet Ryan for several years,” Catherine answered firmly. “She is a very reliable, responsible woman, and I would be very surprised if she didn’t do everything in her power to assist you—when she’s able.”
    Rebecca started to point out that people were capable of all types of subterfuge, given the right motivation, but she was interrupted by the sound of her pager. Grimacing at the intrusion, she flicked it off with her thumb and pointed to the phone. “May I?”
    “Of course,” Catherine replied, watching the detective, who had leaned one hip against the edge of the desk as she dialed. As she was facing the windows, her profile was to Catherine. If she was aware of any scrutiny, she didn’t show it. Her eyes were fixed on the streets below, her expression distant, and Catherine doubted that she actually saw the life passing outside. She seemed impervious to distractions. Catherine wondered what price that kind of focus and control exacted, especially when the case was as high profile and emotionally charged as this one.
    “Frye here,” Rebecca said as the dispatcher picked up. She raised an eyebrow as she listened. “When?…Yes, I’m there now…All right, fifteen minutes.” She replaced the receiver and turned to Catherine. “Janet Ryan is asking for you.”
    Catherine rose quickly. “I’ll go right now.”
    Rebecca reached the door first, pulling it open. “I’ll drive you.”
    Catherine understood that this was not a request and lengthened her stride to match that of the taller woman beside her. It was clear that Rebecca Frye was not used to giving up until she got what she wanted, and, unfortunately, she wanted something that Catherine knew she might not be able to give her. For some reason, that thought bothered her.

Chapter Three

    Detective Jeffrey Cruz found Rebecca in the visitor waiting area on the fifth floor of University Central, feeding nickels into the coffee machine. He thumped her lightly on the shoulder as he stepped up beside her.
    “Hey, Reb. How’s it hanging?”
    She looked at her partner, noting the sallow color of his normally light brown skin, and shrugged tiredly. “Better than yours, probably. You get anything from the crime scene techs?”
    He grimaced as he, too, pushed coins into the slot. “Not yet. Flanagan and her crew are still out there. It started to drizzle about thirty minutes ago, and they’re running around like maniacs stringing tarps up between the trees, trying to preserve the scene.”
    “Fuck,” Rebecca swore, cradling her cup and leaning against the dispenser. “Just what we need. Did they at least get the castings of the footprints done?”
    “Some of them,” Cruz replied, “but it’s a real mess. The jogging path is right there, and even though the spot where he took her down is isolated, there’s still a lot of foot traffic. And then there’s the whole area where the witness was found. It’s a big section to cover. They’re going to lose a lot of trace evidence in the rain.”
    “Yeah.” Rebecca sighed in disgust. “At least it’s Flanagan. She’ll have them straining the mud if it comes to that. If there’s something there, she’ll find it.”
    She walked to the row of plastic chairs and sat down with another sigh, this one of fatigue. She’d only caught a few hours of sleep the night before and would likely have even fewer tonight. “Anything from the lab yet on the physical evidence from the rape victim?”
    “Not much we don’t already know. Preliminary analysis points to the same