Split Second - Part 3

~ Split Second ~
by Stone

Disclaimers: See Part 1

Note: I would like to thank Linda for being a great beta on this story. It would not be what it is without you. Thank you very much.

Note: This story is finished. I will post it in four parts this week.

Part 3

Rachael spent the weekend trying to reach Candy again. The activity was probably pointless, Chase had obviously convinced the girl to disappear, but she had to do something. The minute her mind went idle, she started thinking about David, her friends, Lauren or Chase, none of which were subjects she really wanted to examine any closer.

By Sunday evening Rachael was almost grateful for her pending family dinner. Normally she dreaded the once-a-month get together, but driving down to her father's home, she knew the meal would at least give her mind a respite from her problem, even if it wouldn't be a pleasant one.

The smell of burning charcoal greeted her as she stepped out of her Toyota. Her father had turned himself into a fairly decent cook after she had left home, but he still preferred to grill and in the summer, that's all he did. A glance down the street told her that her oldest brother, Kenneth, Jr., and her middle brother, Phillip, had already arrived. As she started up the sidewalk, William, the youngest one, pulled up to the curb and parked.

Pausing between the azalea bushes that lined the walkway, Rachael waited as he went around his car and opened the passenger-side door. He had brought Kate with him. She was in line to be wife number three. If she had half a brain, she would have run for her life, but that apparently wasn't the case, because she and William had been dating for two years. He was presently divorcing wife number two.

The three of them, along with the dog Kate never left at home, started for the front door. As they drew near, Kenneth Jr., opened it and waited on the threshold. He shook his brother's hand, kissed Kate, then nodded coldly at Rachael, his green eyes mirrors to her own. His cold-shoulder didn't bother her. He didn't have half a brain, either. Unlike Kate, however, he didn't need one. He had his father to do all his thinking for him. Case in point had been Rachael's decision to go into law enforcement. Her father had been against her choice from the very start and Kenneth Jr., had agreed completely. Phillip, a County sheriff's deputy, had quickly followed suit. William was a Department of Public Safety officer. He hadn't been quite as vocal in his disapproval, but his position had eventually lined up with theirs. Women didn't belong in law enforcement. They weren't physically fit for it, they weren't big enough and they couldn't provide adequate backup. The only thing her brothers hadn't said was that women weren't mean enough, but after all the ones they'd been through, they probably knew that wasn't true. Phillip and Kenneth were both single at the moment.

They managed to finish most of the meal before Kenneth Jr. brought up the subject. "My partner's breaking my balls over you, Rachael." Kenneth Jr., an APD cop in the Auto Theft Unit, pushed aside his plate and glared at her. "When in the hell is this mess gonna be over? I'm not real crazy about having my name dragged around in the mud with yours."

Before she could answer, Phillip jumped in. "My lieutenant asked me about it, too. In fact, everybody's talking about it."

Rachael shook her head. "Thanks for the sympathy, guys. It's nice to have the support."

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be a cop…"

William interrupted Kenneth Jr. before he could get too wound up. "Who's handling the case, Rach?"

"Chase Davidson." Rachael's father answered for her, his eyes on the steak that covered half his plate.

Rachael looked at her dad in surprise. For some reason, she never thought of asking him about Chase. "You know her?"

Phillip shook his head in disgust. "Another woman in a job too big for her. I've heard she's a loose cannon."

Rachael jerked her eyes to her brother. "I didn't ask you."

Her father interrupted. "She is a loose cannon. Doesn't follow the rules, does things her own way." He sawed a piece off the steak then looked up at her, his tone bitter. "She's straight, though."

Rachael had no idea of Chase's sexual orientation, but even if she had, she knew that wasn't what her father meant. He was saying Chase was honest.

Kenneth Jr. spoke his unwanted opinion again. "That's not what I heard. Look at her clothes. Hell, look at her car. The woman has too much money for a cop. Everyone knows she's on the take."

"Actually she teaches two night classes at the university. Maybe her money comes from there." Kate was a secretary for the union head and she knew every cop in APD, including the ones not in the union. She reached for her beer. "I think she's smart and for a woman, she's really cute."

As William glared at his fiancé, Rachael's father spoke again. "Chase Davidson isn't who you need to worry about." He caught Rachael's eyes, his gaze as dark as his scowl. "Snell's widow is the one you'd better take care of. She's told the whole damned world you were screwing her husband."

Rachael steeled herself as the others fell silent. She had been waiting for someone to bring up Christena Snell; she should have known it would be her father. "Go ahead and repeat the rest of it, Dad. She is telling everyone I shot him, too. You might as well say it."

For the briefest of moments, she thought her father had winced, but Rachael knew better. He had no sympathy for her. As far as he was concerned, she had made her bed and now it was time for her to lie down in it. "I don't need to say it. You just did, so the question is, how are you gonna handle her?"

"I'm not sure." Rachael cocked her head, her anger and defensiveness getting the better of her, as they always did around her father. "Do you have a suggestion? Maybe you could give me the name of a hit man? Or…since I killed David, I guess I could just handle her myself, couldn't I?"

Rachael instantly regretted her rash words, but she couldn't bring them back. Everyone around the table froze. She had actually managed to shock them. Her father recovered first. Tossing his napkin to his plate, he got up and glared down at her. "You're the one who got yourself in this fix, Rachael. You're gonna have to be the one who gets yourself out."

Without a word, Kenneth Jr., and Phillip stood as well, following her father from the table to the backyard for the cigars they usually lit. William sent Rachael a look that held a modicum of pity, then he left too. Seemingly oblivious to the tension, Kate began to chatter as she collected the dirty plates, her schnauzer yapping at her feet hoping for a handout. "I brought a chocolate cake for dessert and we have some ice cream, too. It's really good. I'll get us some." She continued to talk as she disappeared into the kitchen. Rachael left before she came back.

Rachael ended up back at her town house without any memory of having driven there. Climbing from her Toyota, cold with anger, she went up the sidewalk, unlocked the house and walked inside, punching in the code to turn off her alarm. The day had gone as badly as she had known it would. The thought briefly crossed her mind that her prediction of how it would unfold might be seen by some as a self-fulfilling prophecy, but she didn't believe so. It had simply been another round at the Stevenses'. If she had half a brain, she would have stayed away. Guilt immediately kicked in. Showing up for dinner once a month was all her father expected of her. Regardless of how she felt, he was still her father and as such, she had always believed she owed him something. But maybe she didn't.

Discarding her purse and keys, as well as her thoughts, Rachael climbed the stairs and peeled off her clothes as she went. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was naked. She turned on the shower and stepped into the stream of water without waiting for it to warm, her mind focusing on a single topic. Since the night David had died, only one person had seemed to be on her side. Rachael said her name out loud, rivulets of water dripping off her hair and sliding down her bare skin to tap onto the tile. "Chase." Within the shower walls, the sound of her voice echoed and she wondered how an IA cop, a woman she hardly knew, could be the lone individual who seemed sympathetic to her plight. Turning off the water, she leaned her head against the nearest wall and repeated her name, the feel of it lingering on her tongue. The word was still resonating when something downstairs shattered.

Rachael caught her breath, her blood turning as icy as the water had been moments before. What the hell…? The noise had sounded like breaking glass. Being the cop she was, she instantly started going through her checklist. Had she left the door unlocked? Had she turned on the alarm before she had come upstairs? Had she opened a window? She couldn't remember. All she could think about was her gun. It was locked up, somewhere deep within headquarters. Her backup weapon, a Glock was in the drawer beside her bed.

Rachael stepped from the shower to the bath mat. Soaking wet, she listened closely but heard nothing. Cops were usually paranoid, but a woman living alone, Rachael was worse than most. She kept a weapon of some sort in almost every room. Grabbing the putter she had hidden in the linen closet, she wrapped herself in a towel then moved toward the door. The hinges creaked like a coffin's, but she had left it open. As she slipped out into the hall, she held her breath and listened again, the golf club gripped with both hands. Once again, there was only silence. She eased into her bedroom, but the room was empty. If someone had broken into the house, he hadn't made it this far. Going to her bedside, she opened the drawer in the nightstand and felt inside for her weapon, her eyes never leaving the doorway. A second later, her fingers brushed the textured grip of the automatic. She brought the gun out slowly and a minute later she stood at the head of the stairs. She started down, stopping to listen after each step. By the time she reached the bottom, she had almost convinced herself she was alone. The house didn't feel as if anyone else was in it, but pausing on the last tread, she didn't let down her guard. Gun held in a double grip, she swept the kitchen first, her eyes searching the corners and shadows. Everything looked okay. Turning to her right, she slowly entered the living room, her every nerve on alert. Immediately, before she could even fully register what it was, a fluttering motion caught her peripheral vision. She pivoted, raised her weapon and aimed, her finger on the trigger as she took a shooter's stance. Instead of firing, she stared. Her living room window had a huge hole in the center of the glass. Through the gap, a humid summer breeze lifted the blind then released it. With each breeze, the bottom slat scraped over broken bits of glass on the sill. Turning, Rachael studied the rest of the room. Everything else looked untouched and her chest eased slightly. She took a careful step toward the sofa then found herself paralyzed. A brick lay on the couch, perfectly centered, perfectly placed. If she had asked someone to gently arrange it on the cushion, they couldn't have done a better job. A message had been scratched on one side and she whispered the words out loud. "Quit now, cop-killer, or die yourself!"

**********

Chase cooked when she needed to think. At the moment, she had four pots on the stove and the oven preheating. As she reached for her knife, the microwave beeped, too. She had barely been home an hour when the M.E. had called her. They finished the preliminary report on Snell over the weekend and the doc had wanted to give the information to Chase as soon a he could.

Actually, that wasn't quite correct. The medical examiner had wanted to warn Chase about the results and in fact, Chase herself was already feeling the effects. The M.E.'s news had taken her by complete surprise, so much so she had already begun to wonder if it was past time for her to retire. Naive wasn't a good trait for an IA cop. The more she thought about what the examiner had told her, the more she had begun to wonder, technology be damned. Where was the motivation? When someone killed, there was always a reason, and she had yet to find one where the evidence was pointing.

As Chase chopped onions and tried to puzzle out the news, the scanner on the kitchen counter came awake. She never silenced the thing, the confusing chatter had provided background music to her life for years and generally it was simply white noise. This current transmission caught her attention. It took her a second to realize why she had tuned into the call. Then she realized that the street address was Charter Lane, Rachael's street. She made the rest of the translation without thinking. Meet the woman at this private home. Possible prowler…

Chase dropped her knife on the cutting board, ripped away her apron and turned to the range, switching off everything with a sweep of her hand. She then ran for the back door, only slowing long enough to grab her service revolver from the closet. She backed out the Porsche with squealing tires and the engine roaring, barely missing the garage door as it lifted. She beat the cop to Rachael's town house.

Wheeling into Rachael's driveway, Chase immediately spotted the broken window and imagined a thousand scenarios, all of them bad. When Rachael answered the door, Chase realized she had been holding her breath.

Rachael's green eyes widened. Clearly she had expected a uniform, not Chase. "Chase! What are you doing here?"

"I heard the call on the scanner." Her gaze skimmed Rachael's face. She looked upset and exhausted, but Chase still found herself more attracted to her than she had been to any woman in years. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with wet hair and no makeup, she was gorgeous.

Rachael stepped to one side. "Come on in. Since you're here, you might as well see the damage first-hand."

Chase followed her into the living room, where she pointed to the sofa. A brick sat in the center, crooked words scrawled across its pitted surface. Chase read the message. "Quit now, cop-killer, or die yourself."

"Nice, huh?" She spoke lightly but when she raised her eyes, Chase read the anxiousness in her gaze. Despite her latest news, Chase suddenly wanted to strangle the bastard who had pulled this childish prank.

"I was taking a shower and I heard glass breaking. I got my Glock and came downstairs. It was lying there just like that."

"No cars? No sign of anyone?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. They must have tossed it and run. I'm pretty sure…"

The doorbell interrupted whatever she was about to say. Trailing the scent of honeysuckle, she strode to the entry and opened the door to a patrol officer. His demeanor businesslike, the cop greeted them both then whipped out a small pad of paper and began to take notes. If he knew about Rachael's situation, he didn't say anything about it. When she finished her explanation of what had happened, he then promised to file a report. Standing side by side in the living room, they watched the patrol officer leave fifteen minutes after he arrived.

Rachael folded her arms and spoke dryly. "I'm sure he will be right on top of this. No doubt about it."

Chase smirked. "Absolutely. We can all sleep well tonight knowing officers like that are protecting us."

For the first time since she had met her, Rachael smiled at Chase. It was a lopsided expression and more ironic than sincere, but it made her heart thump all the same. Unnerved by her reaction, Chase spoke softly. "Are you okay? This must have been upsetting."

She walked to the sofa and sat down, avoiding the place where the brick had been as if it were still there. "It was…unexpected, but I'm more worried about the sentiment than I am the incident." A vulnerability darkened her expression and her voice sounded hesitant when she spoke again. "Chase, please tell me people don't really think I killed David. The idea is so outrageous I can't even begin to defend it." She shook her head. "Why would I want to kill him? He was my partner, for God's sake."

Chase wanted to sit beside her on the sofa, but she wouldn't let herself. The information on the M.E. report buzzed inside her head like a hive of angry bees as she perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. "People think you killed him because his wife is telling the world you did."

"But she's crazy…"

"That may be the case, still David never denied having an affair with you, either."

Rachael replied quickly. "I know that, but I never slept with him and frankly…"

She broke off with such abruptness that Chase leaned forward, her brain on full alert. "Frankly, what?"

"I guess I was just relieved all he wanted was to take credit." She spoke as if she were confessing a weakness and suddenly, Chase got a glimpse of the cop she really was, the one Chase assumed she was but hadn't seen before now. Dedicated, smart, out to do her job no matter what that entailed, including working with guys who still thought women's lib was a radical idea. "As long I didn't have to put up with anything more, I let it slide."

Chase raised a brow. "How did you know that's all he wanted? He might have been working you somehow…"

Rachael spoke with conviction. "David Snell never put the moves on me. Maybe he did on some of the other women officers or secretaries, they thought he was handsome and plenty of them would have been happy to accommodate him, but I wasn't interested and I made that clear at the very beginning." She paused, as if reluctant to go on. "But it was more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"When a man or a woman means business, a woman can tell."

Chase just waited for her to explain.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try."

"You're a woman. You must know what I'm trying to tell you." Chase said nothing, so Rachael nodded and licked her lips trying to find the words to explain. "There's a certain kind of tack their interactions seem to take."

Chase could have been fantasizing; she was good at that lately, but it seemed to her as if something personal passed between them. Something dangerous. Something tempting. She forced herself to ask the next question. "And your relationship with David didn't take that route?"

"No. It didn't even head in that general vicinity."

"For you, you mean?"

"For both of us. Like I said before, one, he was married. And two, he was a cop." She shook her head. "I worked too hard and too long to get my assignment in Sex Crimes and I wasn't about to jeopardize all I'd accomplished. There were men in the department, a guy named Jonathan Hopper in particular, who was angry about my placement. He was at Christena's the other day, manning the door, as a matter fact. I didn't want to give him or anyone else, something to talk about. Regardless of all that, David simply wasn't interested in me. I guess I wasn't his type."

Chase didn't know what to say, mainly because she couldn't imagine anyone feeling that way. Rachael misinterpreted her pause. "You think I'm lying." Her voice was flat and devoid of emotion.

Chase stood and walked to the broken window, confused and concerned. She could tell her about the report and let her try and defend herself or she could stay quiet and see what happened. Either way she wouldn't be following the book. That had never bothered her and it certainly didn't now, but she wanted to be fair, whatever in the hell that meant. With her back still to Rachael, she spoke in a soft voice. "Actually, I do believe you."

Chase heard the sofa creak and a second later, Rachael stood beside her, so close she could smell her shampoo, so near she could feel her warmth. A gust of humid air rattled the blinds. "Then what's the problem? Why don't you just close my case and let me go back to work?"

Chase looked down at her. Since she had seen her last, she had her bandage removed. The thin red line made her wince. The bullet had come so close. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the M.E. called me this evening. His report is provisional pending the lab test, but things have gotten more complicated. I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I generally ignore regulations I think are stupid. Besides, you're going to find out sooner or later anyway, so it hardly matters."

Rachael frowned, a distinct uneasiness coming over her features. "What do you mean 'more complicated'?"

"David was hit with a bullet from a .44. The perps didn't have .44s."

She understood immediately. All the color left her face and her cheeks turned the shade of old bones. She swallowed hard. "That caliber ammo can be used in lots of different weapons."

"You're absolutely right, but the slug that was removed from the body didn't come from just any weapon." Chase put a hand on each of her shoulders as if to steady her. "It came from yours, Rachael. Whether you meant to or not, you shot David and there's no getting around it."

As her brain processed Chase's words, the floor dropped out from beneath Rachael's feet and her stomach quickly followed. An awful taste filled her mouth and suddenly she wanted to throw up. She forced herself past the sensation and stared at Chase in disbelief. "That's impossible! I didn't hit David. I couldn't have." She wrenched herself away from Chase's grip. "The report's wrong. It's got to be wrong.. Tell them to redo the tests. The lab must have made a mistake."

"There was no mistake. They shot the water barrel twice and each time the results were the same. The lands and grooves matched perfectly."

Rachael felt as if she had been the one shot. Chase couldn't possibly be telling her the truth. Another thought flashed inside her head. "But I fired seven times. Seven slugs and seven casings were recovered. I couldn't have…"

Chase corrected her. "Eight casings were recovered."

"What? That's impossible! Look at my weapon. Count what I had left…"

"That was done, Rachael, and it all added up. You had a thirteen-round magazine in the .44 and there were five rounds in it when you turned it over to IA. That means you discharged your weapon eight times. Eight casings were picked up, logged and matched to your weapon, along with eight slugs…one of which pierced David's heart."

She understood what Chase was trying to tell her, but it didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense. Regaining control of her voice and of her emotions, she stated flatly, "You're wrong. They screwed up when they did the testing. I'm too good a shooter to make a mistake like that."

"Rachael.…"

Her chest felt as if it were caught in a giant fist. "You know my record at the range. If I'd shot David, I would have known." Her voice broke as she said her partner's name, but she caught herself. Swallowing hard, she focused all her energy on Chase. "I did not kill him. You have to believe me."

"I'm sorry, Rachael." Her gray eyes took on the color of melting snow. "But tests like this don't lie."

Rachael held herself stiffly, her shoulders straight, her eyes steady. From the look on her face to the way she stood, Chase knew she was telling her the truth…or at least, what she thought was the truth.

"I understand that." Her hands became fists at her sides. "But they're incorrect. I did not shoot my partner. If you want the truth like you said you did, you won't accept this report without more investigating."

Reaching out, Chase violated fifteen different department regulations and squeezed her shoulder gently, her gaze never leaving Rachael's. Rachael trembled beneath her touch and she softened her voice without conscious effort. "Accidents happen, Rachael. Even if you shot David and that's proved, it doesn't mean you're guilty of murder. Friendly-fire tragedies are a sad fact of life…"

"That's not what happened."

"When something like this goes down, things get confused. You might believe you didn't shoot him, but you can't be sure. That's why we test and retest."

"And you can keep at it 'til the end of time, but I'm telling you right now, I didn't shoot him." Chase wasn't going to change her mind and neither were the facts.

Chase couldn't stop the sigh that escaped. "All right. I'll register your protest in the morning with Debbie McLain, my captain. She'll take it up the ladder from there. In the meantime, you better find yourself an attorney."

"I don't need one," she said stubbornly.

"That may be what you think but…" She broke off when Rachael's expression closed. She wasn't listening. Chase turned to leave, then hesitated when the damaged window caught her eye. She tilted her head toward the shattered glass. "Do you need some help covering that?"

"I've got something in the garage…"

"Go get it," she instructed. "It won't take us two minutes, then you'll be set for the night." Chase expected a protest, but Rachael headed for the kitchen. Chase heard a door open and close. A few minutes later, she returned with a rectangle of quarter-inch plywood, a battered hammer and four nails.

The wood fit the window perfectly and she turned to Rachael in surprise, her hand holding it in place. The questioning look obvious.

"The kid across the way likes to play baseball. Last summer they had a game going and the ball came right through. His dad measured the window and put that over it until the glass guy could come. I kept it." She shrugged. "If he's as bad a baseball player as my brothers were, I figured it would happen again."

Even though her answer made sense, it was clear she was in shock, the startling information Chase had just revealed more than she could handle. Her voice sounded brittle and her expression matched it. She looked as if she might fly into pieces at any moment.

Chase wanted to comfort her, to pull her into her arms and pat her on the back and say it'll be okay, but she couldn't. That wasn't part of her job description, and, in fact, she could get in a lot of trouble for even trying. Definitely with her boss and probably with Rachael.

Chase put three nails on the windowsill and one between her teeth. "You hold the wood and I'll hammer it in place."

Rachael moved closer and leaned over, pressing the plywood against the frame of the window. "There should already be holes where the nails were before."

Chase located the first three easily and hammered the nails in. Picking up the last one, she searched the wood trim but couldn't find the original nail hole.

"It's there. It has to be." Rachael moved to Chase's left side to get a better line of sight and ended up trapped between her and the window. Not realizing her current position, Rachael continued. "I know they're there because I checked just moments ago. Look closer."

When she didn't reply, Rachael raised her head to look at her.

"I am looking." Chase was staring at her and she stared back. The sudden darkness in her green eyes contrasted sharply with her skin; her cheeks so pale, her skin seemed made of marble, white and cold. Like a candle on a window ledge, her expression flicked and Chase felt herself pulled relentlessly closer. She raised a finger and drew it down the line of her jaw. Her skin was soft and smooth and warm beneath her touch. It didn't feel anything like it looked.

Rachael went so still she had to be holding her breath.

Chase studied her face. "Your mother must have been a beautiful woman, because I've seen your father and he's not all that." Her voice was a whisper.

"That's not what my father called her."

They were inches apart and as she spoke, her breath brushed Chase's face. Chase let her finger drift down to her chin, capturing it between her thumb and forefinger. Rachael looked at her with such intensity she could feel it. Chase continued to whisper. "That's understandable. No one likes to realize their lover has fallen out of love with them. Most of us don't handle the truth very well."

"I hope that's not the case with you."

Chase spread her fingers on one side of Rachael's neck, her thumb resting on the pulse point of her throat. Drops of water from her wet hair clung to her skin and Chase imagined lifting the heavy, dark strands and licking the moisture away from the nape of her neck. The idea was foolish, of course, but she felt as if she already knew the secret spot. "I'm not afraid of the truth." Chase's eyes fastened on hers. "But sometimes I don't like it."

Rachael's pulse was racing and she knew Chase could feel it. "Is that how you feel right now?"

She had a full mouth. Chase wanted to taste it, too. "I don't know how I feel at this point." She took a breath and let it out knowing she was lying. "But I have to be sure, one way or the other."

"Then be sure about this." Rachael's voice was hoarse and it scraped along Chase's every nerve. "I didn't shoot David Snell. I don't know why the tests came back the way they did, but I can guarantee you I didn't kill my partner."

Her conviction was so powerful Chase found herself wondering if she carried the same kind of passion into the bedroom. She allowed herself a moment longer to drink in the closeness, then she took a reluctant step back.

Rachael blinked and seemed to come to her senses, as well.

Taking the last nail off the sill, Chase pounded it in with one swift hit. Two minutes later, she was gone.

**********

Rachael stared at the ceiling above her bed and thought. She thought about dinner at her father's house. She thought about the brick that had come through her window. She thought about Chase's mistaken report, and then she thought about Chase herself. She knew that she had not shot David, but the test results made it hard not to doubt herself. Matching slugs to a particular gun was about as basic as it got. But she hadn't shot David. She couldn't have shot him. She would have known. Wouldn't she? Tossing the covers aside, she stood with a restless curse. The community had to trust their law-enforcement officials and that meant someone had to police the police. The lecture Lauren had given them at the Academy about that very subject rang in her head. While everyone else in the class had made disparaging remarks about the IA department, Rachael had held her tongue. Her father had always said IA had a place and a role to fulfill and she had absorbed that philosophy, taking it as her own. But Chase was making a terrible mistake. She walked to the bedroom window and stared out into the darkness, her thoughts following her. She spent hours at the firing range every month. She liked keeping her skills sharp and she enjoyed the challenge shooting provided her. It was a black-and-white situation with instant feedback. She either hit the target where she aimed or she didn't. Unlike life, the task provided no grounds for argument and the results were obvious. She leaned her head against the glass, a catch suddenly coming into her throat. If she had shot David…God, she couldn't even imagine how she'd feel were the test correct. The thought of David's son being without a father because of her made her nausea return. Until this point, she had assumed grief and accusations and she'd almost understood. As Chase had pointed out earlier, when things like this happened, you had to find someone to blame or you'd go insane over the unfairness of it. But if the tests somehow proved right….

Rachael forced her mind still. She couldn't continue to think about it. Instead she made herself think about opening the door this evening and finding Chase on the threshold. She'd been shocked to see her, but Chase's expression had surprised her even more. She looked…well…almost worried. Had Chase's reaction been genuine or was she manipulating her? The first time Chase had questioned her, Rachael learned how she operated. Quiet, slick and unassuming, she lulled you into relaxing your guard then pounced. She'd known this, yet when Chase slipped her hand behind her hair this evening and drawn her closer, she had been unable to resist. In fact, she would have taken them past that point if Chase hadn't stepped back. Her chilly eyes had melted her and her touch had left Rachael wishing for more. She wanted someone to be on her side. She needed Chase to be her friend or maybe even something more and she knew Chase was too damned smart not to know that and use it. Rachael thought Chase only pulled away because she couldn't yet fully read her. But Chase isn't a friend and she felt she had better not forget that.

**********

Chase was almost home when her cell phone rang. Because she had thought of nothing else since she had left her house, she assumed it might be Rachael and she answered it immediately. "Davidson here."

"You don't know me," the caller said, "but I got some info for you. On the Snell thing."

Normally Chase would have been thrilled at those words, but disappointment swelled inside her when she realized Rachael wasn't on the other end of the phone. She pulled herself out of fantasyland and rejoined real life. It was The Call. "Who is this?"

"You don't care who I am. But you'll want to know what I'm about to say."

She flipped the phone over and looked at the caller ID screen. Unavailable. She thought about having the call traced and she stalled as she tried to decide. "If you've got pertinent information about an ongoing investigation, you may be called to testify…"

"Cut the shit, Davidson. It's not your style."

Chase slowed to a reasonable speed, then pulled to the curb. The caller's voice was whiskey rough. Chase had assumed it was a man, but now she wasn't so sure. "You're right. It's not my style. So what do you have?"

"This is about Snell's wife."

"Christena?"

"Yeah."

"What about her?"

"She's getting' a little something extra on the side. I thought you oughta know."

Chase leaned back against the car's leather seat, the night suddenly turning even more strange than it had been already. "I don't think I understand."

"Don't be dense. She's been screwing another guy for months and everybody but Snell knew. I'm surprised you didn't. He was a good cop and so is Stevens. I don't like what that bitch has been spreading around about them now that David's gone."

The words and the tone definitely sounded male, but Chase couldn't be sure. "You mean the gossip about his affair with Rachael Stevens?"

"No. I mean the gossip about Stevens shooting him." The voice on the other end of the line paused and Chase thought she could hear a dog barking in the background. "If anybody wanted David gone, it wouldn't have been Rachael Stevens, it woulda been that crazy ass wife of his. She was the one sleeping with someone she shouldn't have been. And that's called motivation."

"Who was she sleeping with?"

Another long pause came down the line and for half a second, Chase thought the caller had hung up. The answer came a second later. "I don't know his name, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out, even for an IA asshole like you."

Chase gripped the steering wheel tightly, the insult washing over her without impact. She had been called much worse. "Why is that?"

An ironic twist deepened the caller's voice. "I saw them together and he was wearing the blue. Christena Snell's sleeping with another cop."

**********

The next week dragged by. Rachael tried not to notice, but every day the sideways looks got sharper and the snide remarks got louder. The autopsy results had been leaked and the gossip fires were now blazing.

After an awful weekend, she was grateful when Monday morning came, because it put her a day closer to the monthly luncheon she and her friends had. She's decided she had been confused about Annette and Maria's attitudes because she couldn't face any other possibility. She needed them now. Typically they each called her the day they were to meet and confirmed and she found herself looking forward just to hearing their voices.
When Rachael got to her desk, however, Annette's message was waiting in the voice-mail box. She had called late the night before and it struck Rachael that the timing had to have been deliberate so she would miss speaking to her in person. "I can't make lunch tomorrow. Something's come up. I'll explain later."

Rachael never quit thinking about her own cases, so she knew nine times out of ten that when Annette sounded that curt she had the image of a missing child in her mind and she couldn't get it out. But just as there had been when she had phoned earlier about the gossip, a deeper layer of something echoed in her voice and this time Rachael couldn't convince herself to ignore it. She puzzled over what Annette's problem might be, but before she could take her thoughts further, the phone rang again. This time it was Dianna. "Are we meeting for lunch?"

"Well, I don't know…"

"Because if we are, I can't. I have to work tomorrow and there's no way I can get out of it."

"Okay. Work. I understand."

Dianna hung up with a promise to call later.

An instant after that, the phone rang again. Rachael reached for the receiver as a shadow appeared in her doorway. She answered and glanced up at the same time. Maria spoke in her ear as Chase captured her gaze. Rachael had been pretty successful at telling herself nothing had happened between them Sunday, but seeing Chase now made her question herself about that situation, too. Chase held a sheaf of papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Rachael's heart in her throat, she waved the IA officer into her cubicle and tried to concentrate on Maria's voice. Maria's words finally penetrated Rachael's thoughts. "You're canceling, too?" Rachael made a sound that should have been a chuckle but was too anxious to be called that. "If I didn't know better, I might think you guys were ganging up on me or something. Just when I need to see you, you're all bailing on me."

"I've been trying to catch this witness for weeks, Rachael, and Saturday is the only day she had available. I hope you understand."

"Sure." Rachael's eyes connected with Chase's over her desk. "No problem."

Maria's soft goodbye was lost as Rachael hung up the phone.

Chase pushed the papers she had been carrying across the desk. "More forms. You can fill them out whenever you have time."

"Okay."

Chase made no effort to leave or to hide the fact she'd listened to the conversation. "Sounds like you're having trouble with your friends."

"It would seem that way." Unbelievably, the phone rang a third time, interrupting her answer. Rachael cursed under her breath and refused to even look at the flashing caller ID window.

Chase leaned her arm on the desk and tilted her head toward the phone. "You might as well answer it. You gotta deal with it sooner or later."

Rachael glanced at the display, then picked up the receiver and spoke before Kim could say a word. "We're not meeting so don't worry about making up an excuse. Everyone else has already canceled."

A small silence trickled down the line, then Kim spoke. "That's too bad. You could probably use the support right now."

Kim's answer surprised Rachael, but her defenses had already been deployed, so she lied. "I'm all right. Just fine, in fact. But I have a visitor in my office right now. Perhaps we could discuss this another time?" Rachael didn't care how terse she sounded. She was hurting and she really needed this get-together, really needed their help. Shouldn't her friends have realized that?

"I'll call back later."

"You do that," Rachael snapped. She hung up, replacing the receiver a little too firmly.

In the silence that followed, the mail cart rattled down the corridor then someone called out Wendy's name. Chase stared at her from the other side of the desk the whole time before speaking. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

Chase nodded toward the telephone. "Your friends are running scared. The last time I dropped by I saw you talking to someone…"

"That was Maria Santiago. Five of us went through the Academy together and Lauren…Chief Henderson was one of our instructors. We're still pretty close. We meet once a month for lunch."

"Well, Maria was already feeling the heat then. I wondered if you knew they were about to leave you to your own devices."

"We're all very busy and…"

"How many would have made your luncheon this month?"

"Two."

"You and one other?"

She nodded.

"They've heard the rumors. And they know about the report, as well. I'm sure you're aware the results were leaked. Everyone in the building knows the M.E. found your slug."

"Well, the M.E.'s wrong and so are you."

"Which one of your friends told you what Christena Snell was saying?"

Rachael could not hide her surprise. "How do you know that's how I found out?"

"Stands to reason."

"It was Annette. I'm closest to her. But I think it came from…" She caught herself at the very last minute. She had already told Chase to leave Lauren out of the situation and she needed to do the same.

Chase guessed. "From higher up?"

She didn't answer. She stared at her instead and when Chase seemed to realize she was going to stay quiet, another small smile lifted Chase's lips. "Well, at least you're a loyal pariah. I guess there is something to be said for that."

"Pariah?" The word cut. "Is that what I have become?"

"When IA knocks on your front door, anyone with sense goes out the back. Your friends are smart to understand the situation. They have to distance themselves or risk being tarred by the same brush."

A small, dark wound opened up inside Rachael's heart and despite her best intentions to ignore it, she couldn't. Deep down, so far down she hadn't been able to acknowledge it even to herself, she'd been worried about this possibility, especially after thinking over Annette's attitude and Maria's snub. Her friends had worked hard to get where they were and they couldn't jeopardize what they'd accomplished. Chase wasn't telling her anything new, but accepting her words was painful. She had to acknowledge them, though she couldn't take both sides. "It isn't fair." She spoke quietly, almost to herself more than Chase.

"Doesn't matter. Until things are proved otherwise, you're guilty of something. We just don't know what yet." She paused. "And if you're not…well..that'll get buried on page four of the APD News."

She had shared almost everything with these women. Everything except her relationship with Lauren. They had agreed that it was best that no one knew about their intimate relationship. Knowing better, she argued regardless. "But real friends don't act that way."

Chase slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a wad of money. Peeling off a dollar bill, she laid it on the desk and stood. "I'm not much of a gambler, so this doesn't constitute a wager, but I'm willing to put some money down that says your friends are doing what they have to. They're scared and they can't afford to stand by you. It's the way of the world, Rachael." Chase nodded toward the bill with a cynical expression. "Why don't you put that somewhere for the sake of argument and we'll revisit the subject when the investigation is over. I might be wrong; who knows?"

Rachael reached out, took the money and tucked it into her pocket without a word. With a final look, Chase left the office.

Moments after Chase left, Wendy came storming in with an excited voice. "Rachael, have you seen the paper. I can't believe it. It's wonderful…surprising, but wonderful."

Rachael glanced at what Wendy had in her hands. She was holding a section of the Atlanta newspaper. It was folded in half and Rachael could see a picture on the page, but she couldn't make out who it was. "What is it, Wendy?"

Wendy threw the newspaper down onto the desk and it slid in front of Rachael. Rachael looked down and staring back at her were the last two people she needed to see at the moment. The caption read "Wedding Announcements" and the first announcement was "Atlanta Chief of Police Lauren Henderson to marry the Assistant DA Eric Holmes."
Rachael just stared at the picture in shocked silence until Wendy's voice startled her. "Did you know, Rachael? How long have they been together? This is big news."

Rachael looked at Wendy and then back at the picture. She knew the answer to both questions. Lauren told her this, but seeing it in black and white in front of her was different. "I…I don't know." She picked up the paper and headed for the door. She didn't know what to do. She never cried, but she felt something breaking inside of her. She had to get out. She looked back at Wendy and saw the confusion on her face. She waved the paper between them and lied. "I'm going to try and find Annette and the rest of the group and see what they know." She then smiled and walked out of the office as calm as she could. Once she was a safe distance from the door, she looked down again at the paper and quickened her pace.

Chase had stopped in on an old friend a few offices down. She was exiting his office when Rachael rounded the corner. Rachael didn't see her because she was still staring at the picture in the newspaper. Chase stepped into the hallway and they collided. Chase reached out to stop the woman from falling and realized it was Rachael. Her face was pale and she seemed unnerved. "Rachael, what's wrong?"

Rachael looked up to see Chase holding her. "I…I'm fine." She stepped back out of Chase's arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to run into you. I'm just in a hurry."

Chase looked over Rachael's body. "Yes. I can see that. Are you all right? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"No, I didn't." Rachael looked around and noticed a few people watching them. "I really need to get going. Excuse me." She quickly moved down the hall not realizing that she dropped the section of the newspaper.

Chase watched her rush away before turning to go in the opposite direction. She saw the newspaper at her feet when she turned. She looked back to try and tell Rachael that she dropped something, but Rachael was already out of sight. She picked up the newspaper and as she scanned it contents, she realized why Rachael was so unnerved. Chase remembered the rumors about Lauren Henderson, but she never would have guessed it to be Rachael. Chase stared into the Lauren Henderson's eyes on the newspaper and whispered aloud, "So the rumors are true?"

**********

Wheeling out of the parking garage a few minutes later, Rachael headed for the freeway, her mind in a turmoil. Chase's words had made a lot of sense, yet the idea of her friends' abandonment was so distressing that Rachael actually winced as she thought about it. With a tearful heart, she accepted the fact that Chase had probably told her the truth, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Then, on top of everything else, the announcement of Lauren's wedding. It was all too much.

The sign for the exit ramp flashed by and glancing at the clock on her dash, Rachael abruptly changed lanes. A few minutes after that, she was on the street in front of her father's home. They hadn't spoken since their disastrous dinner, but that wasn't unusual. She and her family could go for weeks without talking to one another. Pulling to the curb, she parked. With a greasy rag in his hand, her father answered the doorbell so quickly he caught her by surprise. The television blared behind him at full volume, his expression uncertain. Suddenly she realized she'd never come home like this before, in the middle of the day, without good reason or invitation. "I was…down the street. Working on a case. I thought I'd drop by." As soon as the words escaped, she cursed silently. Damn, he knew she was desk-bound. Couldn't she have come up with something better? When he didn't say anything, she started to back up. "Look, if this isn't a good time…"

"No, no." He held up the oil-stained towel. "It's fine, I just wasn't expectin' anyone. I was working on the lawn mower. Is everything okay?" He stepped aside as he asked his question and Rachael walked into the home where she'd grown up.

"No, actually, it's not." She turned. "In fact, nothing's okay."

What she said surprised him and herself, too. He paused then headed for the rear of the house. "Come out to the garage. I don't wanna lose my place. I got this damned engine spread from here to kingdom come. If I don't get back to it, I'll forget how it goes together."

She was right behind him when he stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder, his eyes dropping to the wrinkled black skirt and jacket she'd yanked out of her closet this morning. "Oh, wait, you got on a nice suit there, don't you? You don't wanna mess it up and get all dirty. What am I thinking about?"

Rachael didn't know what to do. He'd never come that close to complimenting her before and she could hardly believe he'd even noticed. "No, it's okay, Pop. The garage is fine."

He shrugged and resumed his path through the crowded house. In something of a daze, Rachael followed him out the back door. A bundle of gray hair and yapping confusion jumped on her as she cleared the threshold.

Her father yelled at the dog. "Get down, you useless fleabag!" Get outta here."

"Isn't that…"

"Kate's mutt?" He made a halfway kicking motion toward the dog that had already slunk away at his voice. "Yeah, it's hers, all right. She asked me to take the mutt to the vet this afternoon and I said I would for some ungodly reason I can't remember right now."

Her dad doing Kate a favor? Rachael felt as if she'd wandered into a parallel universe. Who are you, she wanted to ask, and what have you done with my father?

He stepped over a pile of engine parts and waved his rag toward a lawn chair. "Have a seat."

Rachael did as he instructed, a sharp memory from her childhood coming to her along with the scent of spilled diesel and used oil. For a while, when she'd competed with her brothers for her father's attention, she'd thought she could win if she hung out with him in the garage and acted interested in whatever he was doing. He hadn't seemed to appreciate the company and she'd eventually given up.

Leaning against the fender of his '57 Chevy, he crossed his arms and stared at her. The silence built.

Rachael finally broke the silence. "I'm in deep shit."

"I know."

"The ballistic reports are in. They're saying the slug that…the slug that killed David came from my weapon."

He didn't react and she realized he already knew. She wasn't surprised.

"Tell me everything, Rachael."

She recited the story, Chase's information coming out in halting sentences that she couldn't seem to organize. She kept expecting her father to interrupt and say she wasn't making sense, but he didn't. In fact, he didn't utter a word, even after she finished. Instead, he stared past where she sat, his eyes going to the empty street in front of his house. She couldn't read his expression because he didn't have one, but suddenly she knew what he was thinking. He hadn't wanted her to become a cop. He'd made it clear he didn't want her to go to the Academy. He'd practically predicted disaster would follow. And now it had.

Rachael wanted to kick herself. What on earth had she been thinking? Why had she come here? Looking to her father for help was as stupid as looking to Chase for sympathy. The stress she'd been under lately had obviously pushed her over the edge. She stood up so abruptly the lawn chair collapsed behind her with a rattle. Her father jerked his eyes away from the street and stared at her. "I shouldn't have come here."

"You're right." He agreed with her, breaking her heart before he continued. "You should be talking to that IA woman instead of me. For God's sake, she obviously has her head up her ass or she would have already realized what's going on."

Prepared for something else entirely, Rachael frowned in confusion. "What are you saying?"

He looked at her with an expression that seemed to confirm her earlier assumption. He thought she was an idiot. She wanted to flee the criticism but she couldn't. She had to hear his answer first. It came quickly and with unmistakable authority. "Things aren't always what they seem, Rachael. You, and apparently Davidson, too, are looking at the surface. You're seeing what they want you to see."

"Who's they?"

"I don't know yet."

His cryptic answer only served to frustrate her more. "Look, Dad, I'm not getting it."

With a heavy sigh, he tossed the oil-stained rag toward a pile of others in the corner. "I had this case…it was March '90. I remembered the date 'cause we were grilling steaks and listening to the ball game. It was a game that I had been waiting on and halfway through the game, we got the call and had to leave."

"And?"

"Our lieutenant's brother-in-law had been shot and he wanted us to go down to Wayne County where the guy had been a sheriff's deputy. We were supposed to find out what the hell had happened, talk to the sheriff, that kind of stuff. The lieu couldn't go 'cause his wife was going off the deep end and he trusted us. We left and went to the scene." He paused as if remembering. "Some kids had gone out to this rice field to park and smoke pot and they'd found the body."

Instantly hooked, Rachael stared at her father in fascination. He'd shared stories like this with her brothers when they'd been younger, but he'd never included her. At least, not intentionally. She'd always listened from a nearby hidden spot. "What had happened?"

"The sheriff said suicide. Showed us the wound and the pistol, blood everywhere. Situation seemed cut-and-dried and we hauled the body back to Atlanta. The minute the M.E. peeled back his eyelids, he told us the truth. Somebody had smothered the man first. They'd shot him to cover it up and make it look like a suicide."

With her brain spinning, Rachael tried to put the pieces together. "Was it the sheriff?"

"Of course not. The sheriff woulda known better." He paused. "At least, I hope he would have. No, it was the wife. She couldn't tell a hemorrhage from a hole in the ground, not to mention the fact that her now-dead husband had no residue on his hands. She'd drugged him first and that showed up in the chem analysis, too."

"So she shot him after he was dead? Where'd the blood come from?"

He seemed surprised by the astuteness of her question. "It wasn't his blood. She'd cut up a chicken or something. Hell, the woman wasn't a rocket scientist, okay? She just wanted to fake the suicide, take his money and run." He paused. "If she wasn't bright enough to know insurance won't pay off on a suicide, do you think she could have figured out anything else?"

Rachael went silent as she considered his words and put the information into context. Finally she spoke. "Pop, David's murder wasn't staged. It happened in front of my eyes."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I saw him fall and he stopped breathing right in front of me. I watched him die." Her voice almost cracked, but she caught herself at the last second. "I don't think this is the same thing."

"Of course it isn't the same thing, Rachael, but for God's sake, use your brain. At first glance, a situation can look like one thing, then when you look again, it can appear to be something else entirely different. That's my point. Don't settle for the obvious. You can't always believe your eyes or an autopsy report. Dig deeper."

"That's good advice, but I have a feeling I can dig to China and I'm not going to find the truth."

"Well, you better find it, Rachael. Your life depends on it."

He was right, of course, but suddenly the situation seemed overwhelming. She'd lost her friends, her career and her partner. The world felt upside down with her father helping her and Chase affecting her so much. She couldn't think straight, much less creatively.

Behind the garage, Kate's dog barked once then quickly fell quiet, as if remembering where he was. She spoke quietly. "What happens if I can't?"

"That's not an option. You're a Stevens. And Stevenses don't fail."

The connection Rachael had felt between them shriveled under the force of his answer. Her throat went tight as he stared sternly at her. "Pull yourself together," he ordered, "and act like you know that."

**********

Rachael wasn't convinced of her father's argument when she drove away that afternoon. She was equally unsure which had surprised her more, his ideas or the fact that they'd actually discussed the situation without one of them getting pissed off and storming away in a huff. He'd hurt her feelings with his gruffness, but she somehow felt better after talking to him, too. It was a weird combination, then again, her life had been nothing but weird since the shooting.

It seemed like a miracle, but the glazier was right on time. As soon as he finished and she'd paid him, Rachael changed clothes, then grabbed her duffel bag from the closet and left again. Thirty minutes later she parked in front of the private gun range where she practiced. A lot of cops belonged to the club and Rachael had been a member for years. The owners were good people. Usually a stickler for doing her own cleaning and maintenance, she'd let the club's tech adjust her trigger pull last month. He'd done a good job.

Regardless of that, she didn't really want to run into anyone she knew. But if she did, well, she did. She had nothing to hide, she told herself. She should act innocent because she was innocent. Looking neither left nor right, she registered at the front desk, got her lane assignment, and walked directly to the indoor shooting area.

The club was high tech all the way with twenty-five air-conditioned, soundproofed lanes. The stations were four, maybe five, feet wide and fifty feet long, each one outfitted with a computer that allowed the shooter to select from over twenty different courses. The programs were preset and tactical, challenging for some, but useless as far as Rachael was concerned. They felt like video games to her and she wasn't there to play. Dropping her duffel to the black rubber mat at her feet, Rachael knelt down and pulled out her equipment, including her pistol.

The range had special wall tiles that absorbed the sound as well as bullets, but she always wore ear protection and safety glasses too. With everything in place, she punched up her program, adjusting the speed and placement to make the task more difficult as she progressed, took her stance and began to fire. An hour later, she was sweating and exhausted, but the tension she'd had in her neck and arms came from physical effort and not from stress and worry.

She flipped on the gun's safety catch and stepped back from her stand, her eyes briefly meeting the curious gaze of the man in the lane next to her. She knew him, but from where? A second passed then she placed him, a hard knot forming in her chest. He was the blonde who'd been at Christena Snell's side before she'd attacked her.

Laying his weapon on the table before him, the cop pulled off his own ear protectors and said hello, sticking his hand out in a friendly manner. "You're Rachael Stevens. I'm Kevin Connelly. We met at…"

"At the Snell house." Rachael preempted him. "I thought you looked familiar."

"I'm surprised you remember. Things got a tad confused that day, didn't they?"

He seemed amicable enough, but Rachael no longer trusted her judgment. "I'm afraid they did." Speaking in a dismissive manner, she decided to cut her session short even though she'd paid for two hours. She squatted beside her bag, put her gun away then her towel and zipped the bag shut. Standing up, she slung it over her shoulder and started to leave.

His voice stopped her before she managed one step. "Christena was really upset."

It seemed rude to simply walk away without comment. "I'm sure I would have been upset myself if I'd just lost my husband."

"Maybe so, but losing a partner is no picnic either. You've had a tough go of it too." Reaching inside the pocket of his black T-shirt, he removed a card and held it out to her. "If you need a shoulder, I've got a broad one. I'd be happy to listen."

His offer startled her, but she wasn't sure why. Men had been trying to give her their phone numbers, or get hers, since she was twelve. His manner was matter-of-fact, thoughtful, and not a come-on. He was being friendly, nothing more. She accepted his card. "Thanks. I'll keep your offer in mind."

He smiled. "Please do."

She returned his smile and started once more toward the door, the direction taking her between him and the wall. Just as she drew even with him, he reached out and patted her shoulder. "I mean it." His eyes were bright and blue. "Call me."

She muttered something vague then quickly left. The incident, strange at it was, was forgotten until later that evening when her thoughts returned to the conversation she'd had with her dad. Passing a picture of her dad and his unit back in the day, she paused. Kevin Connelly didn't look like any of them with his fine blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but something about him reminded her of all the old-time cops in the photo. They were masters at saying one thing but meaning another and, even as a kid, she'd sensed their subterfuge and arrogant attitudes of invulnerability. Connelly's assurance mixed with her father's words and her brain started spinning. Had her father been pulling the same kind of shit his former cronies liked to pull? He'd suggested a setup, then implied the question: Why would anyone want David dead? A new idea came into her mind. Rumors of corruption had been floating around the department for years and her dad had to have heard them all, as connected as he was. Maybe he'd wanted her to turn her mind in that direction, but he knew better than to push her because she would have gone the opposite way. Planting a seed and letting it grow would produce far better results.

She went upstairs, but she didn't sleep. In fact, when her phone rang a little past midnight, she was still awake. Her father's gruff voice answered when she said, "Hello."

"I been thinking about something since you left. Then I talked it over with Larry, you know my old partner? I think we might be on to something."

Rachael was glad she was lying down. She could count the times her father had called her on one hand. She responded slowly, unsure of what he expected of her. "Okay."

"I don't know who 'they' are yet, but I think I know what's happenin'."

Rachael wondered if she should take his words at face value or try to interpret them. Earlier, she'd been convinced he was manipulating her, yet now she wasn't so sure. He almost sounded excited. "And that is…" She coached him to continue.

"Somebody's settin' you up."

She took the phone away from her ear and stared at it in open-mouthed disbelief. Bringing it back, she spoke in a shocked voice. "What? That's crazy…I…I…"

"Never even considered the possibility," he finished flatly.

"Of course not! Because it's too outrageous. Why on earth would anyone want to frame me for David's murder? That doesn't make sense."

"But you shooting him does?" He took a breath and she heard the schnauzer barking in the background. "The man's dead and he wasn't hit by a train. The lab says your bullet killed him. Either you shot him or somebody else did. If somebody else did, as outrageous as that sounds to you, they did it in a way that makes you look guilty. Which version do you wanna believe?"

She ignored his question and asked one of her own. "How did you come up with this theory?"

"Larry and I had a case once that was a professional hit, a setup. We can't remember all the details, but we remembered enough to figure out the same thing might be happenin' to you. Larry's got his cousin down in records lookin' up the case so we can get the details back."

"Dad, I appreciate the help, but this sounds like such a long shot."

"It may be, but the other option is that you killed him. You like that better?"

"I didn't shoot my partner." Her voice was quiet.

"Then we better figure out who did or you're gonna be the one who goes down for it."

**********

From behind her desk, Chase's boss looked as if she wanted to explode. "I told you to take care of this case, Davidson. What the hell went wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong." Chase sipped her Starbucks. "She doesn't believe the test results and she wants to contest them."

"Is this woman a cop or what? I can't believe she thinks like this. It's crazy! Any idiot knows those findings can't be messed with and what's more…" She stopped sputtering when she realized Chase had yet to reply.

"Rachael Stevens is an excellent officer with an outstanding record." Chase paused. "Unlike some in the department, she knows what she's doing and she does it well. She deserves a full investigation."

Debbie had never been on the street. She'd served her patrol time by driving the mayor around town. From there, she'd gone straight into her first, but not her last, admin position. Debbie's eyes slid past Chase's, then quickly came back. They held defiance at Chase's subtle put-down, after all she was Chase's boss, but a certain amount of curiosity was in them, as well. She leaned back in her chair and studied Chase a moment longer. "Then the tests are wrong?"

Chase smiled. "I didn't say that. But I'm working the angle."

"And the brick incident?"

"Too soon for a report, but I doubt we'll get anywhere with it. Somebody's pissed and they wanted to let her know. The brick was thrown the same night I got the M.E.'s initial report, though. I need to make sure there isn't a link between the two."

"When will you be done?"

Chase looked directly into her boss's eyes and tilted her head slightly. "When I'm finished."

"I need a time, Davidson. The mayor doesn't like this dragging out and the press is pounding my ass for a resolution. I want to turn this over to the CRC and the assistant chief ASAP." She glanced at her watch then looked back at Chase. "I've got a reporter due any minute and he's gonna want an update."

Disgusted, Chase stood and drained her coffee, then crushed the cup and tossed it into the wastebasket. "When I have a recommendation, you'll be the first to know." She then walked out of Debbie's office and directly into Rachael's path.

Rachael spoke without as much as a hello. "I need to talk to you."

Distracted and nervous, Rachael looked as if she'd fallen out of bed and come straight to the office. Her dark hair had been combed and she'd put on a little make-up, but if she'd had on pj's beneath her suit jacket Chase wouldn't have been too surprised. Chase marveled at the way this endeared Rachael to her. Before she'd met Rachael, the women who'd always caught her eye had looked as if they'd just walked out of the salon and were heading for the mall. Seeing her in the flesh released the demons Chase had been fighting since the night at Rachael's house. Desire. Lust. Heat. She thought she had finally banished them, but now Chase knew she was wrong, especially after defending her to Debbie. She wondered if Rachael could tell. Then she wondered if she knew anything about David's wife having an affair. With Debbie's eyes on her back, Chase took Rachael's elbow and steered her out of her boss's line of sight. "This isn't a good place for you to be."

"I don't care. I need to talk to you. Right now."

They ended up six blocks down the street. The Webster Park was an oasis of green in the middle of downtown Atlanta, the towering skyscrapers at odds with the eclectic assortment of historic structures that had been moved to the park over the years. Rachael led Chase straight to one of her favorite spots in the park. She entered an enclosed gazebo, taking a seat on the bench inside. It was dark and cool. Even more importantly, it was quiet and very empty. Chase spoke as she sat down beside her. "I'm all yours."

She took a deep breath and met Chase's eyes. They looked less chilling and more intense in the sunlight, but she wasn't sure. Her nervousness made her uncertain of everything, including the reason she'd brought Chase here. The more she'd thought about her father's suggestion, though, the stronger her conviction had grown. She'd woken this morning, knowing she had to tell Chase. Without giving herself more time to fret, she spoke. "I talked with my father for a long time yesterday and he basically said we aren't looking deep enough. Then he mentioned something I hadn't considered before. After sleeping on it last night, I came up with more questions than answers and I thought, well, I thought I should talk to you about it."

"What did he say?"

"I'll explain in a minute, but first I have to ask you something. It might not make sense to you, but I have to know." She hesitated then took the plunge. "Do you think it's possible that David could have been dirty?"

Chase blinked as Rachael's words registered. She had been thinking about how much she would like to bury her face in the crook of Rachael's neck…right below her ear, in that tender spot…

"Chase?"

"I heard you." She shook her head. "But I don't have an answer I'd swear to at the moment. As far as I know he was clean."

"Well, remember the other night when I told you about Jonathan Hopper? He's the guy who was at Christena's? He wanted the position in Sex Crimes that I got instead of him."

"And?"

"When I came into the station this morning, I checked on Hopper. He was off Sunday night." She paused. "His unit secretary told me he was gone because he's building a cabin up by the Lake and he had to brick the façade this weekend."

Chase didn't react, but this time it wasn't because she was thinking about Rachael. She was remembering her anonymous caller from the other night. The one who'd said Christena Snell was having an affair. With a cop. "There are construction sites all over the place, Rachael. Anyone could have picked up a brick anywhere and you know it."

"I agree, but you'd have to admit it's mighty coincidental, isn't it?"

"Maybe. But there's no connection."

"Yes, there is." She moved closer as if to better make her point. "Chase, David was an ambitious cop and he hadn't gotten to the top rung in SC without stepping on some toes. I never gave it any thought, but there were some very unsatisfied officers in our unit who believed he had manipulated the system to get where he was, payoffs for advancement, that kind of thing. Hopper was one of them and he hated both of us. He would have gotten a double play by killing David, then somehow blaming me."

"And somehow covers the fact that David was shot with your gun? That you were holding at the time?"

"That's a problem," she conceded, "but I think the idea bears looking into. Everyone's speculated about corruption in the department for years. David was a good cop, but it's not inconceivable that if he paid for his promotion…"

"You're stretching it, Rachael."

"Maybe I am, but this is my career we're talking about." Her eyes blazed with sudden determination. "If you won't look into this possibility, then I'll start my own investigation. I'll prove you're wrong, all on my own, if I have to."

"Look, we've talked about this before. I'm the one who'll work this out." Chase tensed. "Let me handle this."

"I would if you were handling it," she said hotly. "But you're not. You already made up your mind and now you're finding the facts to back it up. Like that bogus report from the lab. I'm not going to let you railroad me."

She stood up and tried to pass her, but Chase blocked her path. They were inches apart in the cool dark and her hands were on Rachael's shoulders when she finally spoke. "You've misunderstood me from the beginning."

"I don't think so."

"I've defended you. I've cut you slack. I've told you things about the case you shouldn't know until it's over." Chase gripped her tightly. "I know you think I'm lying, but this is the truth. I want you to be innocent, Rachael."

"Why should I believe that?" She searched Chase's face as if she could read the truth from her expression. "What do you care? Why do you want me to be innocent?"

"I want it because you are a good cop and because APD needs officers like you. I want it because you want it." She paused and leaned closer, breathing in Rachael's perfume and her nearness. "But mostly I want it…because I want you."

Chase's lips closed over Rachael's. Because Chase was so quiet and unassuming, Rachael expected something gentle from her, something soft, but her kiss was nothing like that. It took Rachael by complete surprise, eliminating her hesitations and replacing them with unrelenting desire. It was nothing like what she expected.

The shock rippled over her, yet the power of the kiss didn't dissipate. It seemed to grow instead, taking her energy as its own and fueling her need. Rachael held on to Chase's arms and tried not to react, but when Chase's tongue parted her lips and the kiss became more intimate, Rachael relinquished all control as a low groan escaped from the back of her throat. Chase matched the sound with one of her own and she felt it as much as she heard it, her body vibrating. They'd both been holding back, she realized belatedly and now they'd reached the point of explosion. She wasn't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Chase pulled away, she wasn't ready.

Chase took a step back and lowered her eyes. "What in the hell am I doing?

Rachael was trying to catch her breath. "I…I think that's called a kiss."

Chase smiled. "I've never had a kiss like that before. Are you sure?"

"Not really." The confession slipped out on its own. "Maybe we should do it again, so we can be positive. I'd hate to not know." She could tell Chase liked the idea.

Chase started to bring her closer but stopped and did just the opposite, dropping her arms and taking a step backward. "This is insane. We can't do this. I'm supposed to be investigating you. We could both get thrown off the force and we'd deserve it for being so stupid."

Rachael nodded. She knew the woman was right.

Chase showed her frustration with an audible sigh. "Trading my job for a woman like you might be worth it to me, but you can do better. A helluva lot better. I'm too old for you. I've seen too much. I work too hard. I'm a cop and you don't date cops."

Rachael smiled nervously. "I've never openly dated a woman either, but that didn't stop me from kissing you back. Are you making these excuses for me or for you?"

Chase looked around nervously. She needed to think, but she didn't have a clear head for that. "I don't know. Maybe I'm making excuses for the both of us." Chase thought about Lauren Henderson and the wedding announcement in the newspaper. "This woman you spoke of, what happened with her. Why aren't you still with her?"

Rachael dropped her gaze as she allowed the last time she saw Lauren to enter her mind. "She tried to break my heart. It's…complicated, but it doesn't matter. It's…it's over."

Chase studied the woman's face and her words. She wasn't so sure. Rachael looked hurt, but she also looked confused. "Are you sure?"

Rachael didn't expect the question. She looked away and asked herself the same question. She decided to answer the question truthfully. She let out a long breath, trying to relieve some of the tension of the moment. "Am I sure it's over? I'm not sure there really ever was anything to be over. The affair was an illusion. I'm not sure any of it was real."

Chase could see the sadness in Rachael's expression. "Real to you or real to her?"

Rachael was getting annoyed by all the questions. She didn't want to think about it, much less put words to it. "Does it really matter, Chase? If it wasn't real to her, then how could it have been real to me?"

Chase had more questions, but the tone and sarcasm in Rachael's voice told her that she wouldn't get the answers she was looking for. The woman before her had been through so much. She had no one to trust and no one to comfort her. Chase unconsciously took a step toward Rachael before whispering, "I won't try to break your heart."

Rachael looked up into those mesmerizing strange eyes and felt fear. "I know. You will break my heart…if I let you."

A split second passed and Rachael's pulse roared in her ears. Then Chase pulled her close and they started all over again. They never saw the shadow in the window.

**********

Chase left Rachael standing on the sidewalk outside the station and headed straight for the parking garage. Rachael's suggestion seemed like a remote possibility, but if Jonathan Hopper had had it in for Rachael and David and he turned out to be Christena's lover, Chase would have to start over. And she wouldn't even know where to begin because the physical evidence, like an elephant in the living room, would still be too overwhelming to ignore.

Between the construction and the traffic, it took Chase an hour to get to the Snell house and she had plenty of time to curse herself. She'd been crazy to kiss Rachael, but how could she have resisted? She savored the memory of their encounter then told herself it would never happen again. At the very same time, the other side of her brain was plotting how soon she could see her again.

Christena Snell answered the doorbell after four rings and Chase almost wished she'd called first. The woman wore a rumpled, dirty housedress and a very blank look. "I'm Chase Davidson." She tried to remind the woman. "I'm with APD Internal…"

"I know who you are. What do you want? I'm kinda busy right now."

Chase used her most sympathetic tone of voice. "I'm sorry, but I need to ask you a few more questions. I'm trying to wrap up a loose end or two."

She looked as if she wanted to close the door in her face. Half expecting just that, Chase was surprised when she threw the lock and pushed the door open instead. "C'mon in. I can give you ten minutes."

The day of the memorial service, the home had been neat and clean, but that was no longer the case. Unfolded laundry was piled on the sofa and dirty dishes littered the dining-room table. A thin coat of dust covered everything. She waved Chase toward a recliner as she pushed aside some of the wash and sat down on the sofa. She didn't seem to notice when half of the laundry tumbled to a rug that looked as if it hadn't been vacuumed in a month.

She threaded her fingers through her hair then dropped her hands to her lap, before looking at Chase. "You're the one who took that woman out of here, aren't you?" Not waiting for her answer, she went on, spitting out the words as if they tasted bitter. "David's partner…Rachael. She shot him, I know that for a fact."

Her outspokenness should have surprised Chase, but it didn't. Her dilated eyes and dazed attitude registered and Chase remembered Rachael's earlier comments. Christena was either drunk or high. "How do you know that Mrs. Snell?"

"I been told."

"By whom?"

"The same person who told me they were sleeping with each other."

"Was it Jonathan Hopper?"

The woman looked at Chase so emptily, she knew the answer before the woman answered her. "Jonathan who?"

"Hopper. He's a cop."

"Oh, the guy on David's team. No, of course not." Changing the subject as abruptly as she had a second before, she continued. "She had a thing for him, you know. He did for her, too."

Chase assumed she was back on Rachael. "I'm surprised you'd say that, Mrs. Snell. Most women wouldn't be as forthright about their husband's affairs."

"She's beau…ti…ful." She pronounced all three syllables so distinctly Chase knew she was trying not to slur her words. "What kinda man wouldn't wanna sleep with Rachael Stevens?"

Chase definitely didn't have an answer for that one. The woman rambled on. "We…we'd been married five years and I…I thought…" Her restless fingers found a kitchen towel and she brought it to her face. She touched her eyes with the rough fabric, then let it fall. "We'd had our troubles, just like any married couple, but I thought I could make it work. After the baby came, I…I put on some weight and it was hard, but I thought having a kid would make David change."

"Change how?"

She stiffened at Chase's question but answered immediately. "I thought it'd make him want to stay home more."

Her answer made sense, even though her delivery seemed strange. "I understand, Mrs. Snell. You wanted some help. It's hard to find time for yourself when you're a new mom."

"Time for myself?" She looked puzzled. "Why would I want that?"

"Well, I assume you have a job, a career. Most women these days have their own lives beyond the family. Even if you didn't work outside the home, I can see how you might want to get out and be with your friends." Chase thought to herself, or your lover.

Whatever she had used to dull her senses was wearing off. Her voice went sharp. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm investigating your husband's death, Mrs. Snell, but that means I have to look at everything in his life. Even though he's gone, in a sense, I have to get to know him and his family as well."

Her skin took on a greenish tone and for a moment, Chase was afraid the woman might get sick. "I'm sure you already know the important stuff."

"Do I?"

She blinked but didn't say anything.

"I've heard some rumors, Mrs. Snell."

"They aren't true!"

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

Her voice was getting higher. "It doesn't matter. They aren't true, whatever they are. Everything was fine. Just fine. We were…were a perfect family."

"Perfect families don't generally include affairs, Mrs. Snell."

She clutched the towel in her lap, wrapping her fingers around it as if she were drowning and it was a rope. "I don't think he loved her, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not talking about David and Officer Stevens. I'm talking about you. I've been told you were seeing someone outside your marriage, Mrs. Snell. Another officer, in fact. Is that true?"

She jumped up from the sofa, her face alarmed. "That's outrageous! Who told you that? You ought to be getting the woman who killed my husband instead of coming over here and harassing me. How dare you barge in here and accuse me of something like that?"

Chase remained seated. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Mrs. Snell. I'm telling you what I was told and asking if it's true."

"It's not true. Not at all. It's a lie. Why would I even want to have an affair when I had a husband who looked like David?" She pursed her lips then nodded toward the door. "I think it's time for you to leave. Your ten minutes are up."

**********

After Rachael went back to her office, she decided she didn't want to think about what had happened in the park, but her mind didn't seem to care what she wanted. All she could concentrate on was Chase. Who would have thought Chase could kiss like that? Sure, she'd been attracted to her, but she'd attributed her feelings to the desire to have Chase on her side, not in her bed. Now she wondered. The quiet, bookish exterior hid an unexpected woman, her cold gray eyes and piercing demeanor a cover-up for something far different. What else, Rachael wondered, lurked behind her façade?

Realizing she was making a giant mistake but willing to risk it, Rachael did the only thing she knew that would get her thoughts off Chase. She picked up the phone and called Kim. She didn't really know what to expect, since she hadn't spoken to any of her friends since the canceled lunch date, but in retrospect, Kim had seemed the least upset of all of them. More importantly, Kim was very well connected, both inside the force and out. All Rachael needed was a simple answer to a simple question. Surely Kim would help her.

Kim answered on the third ring.

"It's Rachael. Have you got a minute to talk?"

Was there a hesitation or not? Rachael couldn't tell. "There's a meeting in half an hour I need to go to, but I've got some time. How are you doing, Rachael?"

Rachael kept her own voice as cool as she could make it, since she was having a hard time determining whether or not Kim sounded aloof or not. "I'm, fine. I have something I need to ask you."

"What is it?"

This time she was sure she heard caution in Kim's voice. Rachael plunged ahead regardless. "I had a brick come through my window the other night and I think Jonathan Hopper might have had something to do with it."

"Oh, Rachael…That dick!" Kim's distress sounded genuine, but Rachael wouldn't let herself believe it was. "I'm so sorry, Rachael. You weren't hurt, were you?"

"All I suffered was a broken window."

"Well, I've heard nothing. At least not about Hopper…" She stopped all at once, the break in her speech too abrupt for Rachael to ignore.

"Because everyone's too busy talking about me?"

The usually levelheaded Kim rarely got rattled, but she did so now. "Well, actually…yes. Your situation is being discussed a lot right now."

Despite herself, Rachael felt her throat tighten. "You don't believe I killed David, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe, Rachael. The ballistics tests the lab performed…they're awfully reliable, you'd have to admit."

"Oh, they're reliable, all right." Rachael spoke in a voice tinged with bitterness. She was too tired to hide her emotions, especially with Chase's wager in her mind. "More reliable than my friends."

"Rachael, please…"
"Please what, Kim? No one's called, no one's come by. Everyone bailed on the luncheon. It's pretty obvious you guys are abandoning me."

"Maybe we're not helping you as much as we should, Rachael but…"

"How about you're not helping me at all?" Rachael's anger got the better of her, her frustration bubbling to the top and boiling over. "I didn't expect anyone to hold a rally for me on the square downtown, but I thought I could count on my friends to support me."

"We're all concerned…"

"That's for sure! You're concerned about your own positions, aren't you? I'm off limits and so are my problems. Has it occurred to any of you that I might be innocent?"

Kim's voice was quiet when she answered. "It's occurred to all of us, but you have to see the position we've been put in, Rachael. If we defend you too vigorously, they'll say we're just sticking by you because you're a woman. And God help us all if there were any hint that Lauren might come to your aid. Each of us has to be very careful, yourself included. We're handling the situation the best way we know how and that might end up being different for each of us. We have all had to take a step back from our friendship." She paused. "Maybe Hopper has a point, albeit a crudely expressed one."

"What do you mean?"

"We're each going to have to use our own brains to work this out, Rachael. There's no other way." Silence came down the line because Rachael didn't know what to say. Kim broke the silence with a soft gentle voice. "Suppose our positions were reversed. What would you do if you were in our place?"

Her question wasn't a new one. Ever since she and Chase had discussed her friends' reactions, Rachael had been thinking about the situation and even though she didn't like what it said about her, she knew that nothing meant more to her than her career. She had worked too long and too hard to jeopardize it for anyone. Aside from Lauren, the friendship and the closeness she'd shared with her friends was great, but the preservation of all her efforts was more important. She would have to give Lauren more thought. She might have made the very same choice her friends had, but that knowledge still didn't mitigate the sting of their self-imposed distance. "I don't know what I'd do." She took a deep breath. "But I pray to God I'll never find out, because right now I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy."

She gave Kim time to comment. She simply said goodbye and hung up the phone. There would be no more pretending now. Friends or not, the break was complete. Her friends were gone and Rachael was on her own.

Rachael finally managed to wrestle control of her thoughts away from the conversation with Kim and turn them back to where they needed to be. On her case. Her father's suggestion came to the forefront of her thinking and, ten minutes later, she stood before the crime lab. She wasn't quite sure what she hoped to accomplish, yet something told her this was the place to start. She walked inside with Chase's warning echoing in her mind. Pulling out her badge, she flipped it in front of the receptionist's nose, then dropped it back into her purse. I'm with SC. I need to check on some old cases. Gotta tech around I could talk to?"

The woman barely looked up from her computer screen. "Frank Telson's back there somewhere. Try his office, third door down the hall."

So much for security. Rachael muttered her thanks then headed quickly down the corridor, half-afraid the woman might call her back. She'd never heard of Telson, but a few summers ago she'd worked closely with one of the techs on a serial rapist case and they'd developed a loose kind of camaraderie. Slinking down the hall with what she hoped was a low profile, Rachael tried to remember the location of the woman's cubicle.

Before she could get too far, an officious-looking man with a bad comb-over stopped her. He wore a stained lab coat that had been white and gray tennis shoes that had been black. She didn't know him and as far as she knew, he didn't recognize her, either. He certainly didn't seem happy to see her. "I'm Frank Telson, the afternoon supervisor. Reception paged and said someone was coming back. May I help you?"

Rachael gulped. "Actually I'm looking for a tech that helped me a while back. Her name was Teresa…"

"Teresa Webb. Teresa is no longer with us." His thin lips pressed together as if it hurt him to speak. "Did you have a question about a case?"

"Not exactly."

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

She stumbled over her words. "I just wanted to review something with her…about your chain of custody and how evidence is handled, like from the M.E.'s office to here." She paused. "I'm aware of all the procedures, of course and I know how everything works, but I had a theoretical question about evidence integrity."

"Then I'll give you a theoretical answer. It's secure." He smirked, clearly pleased with his answer. "Was there anything else?"

She ignored his attitude. "So blood evidence or something physical, like a weapon or say a slug…they're signed for each step to the way, aren't they? And…theoretically speaking, of course…one could trace who had handled each piece of evidence?"

He seemed to stiffen. "That's correct, more or less. Who did you say you are? I didn't catch your name…"

"I'm with SC. I'm working on that case about the guy who beats up hookers." She'd encountered men like Telson before and there was only one way to handle them. By being a bully. He opened his mouth to speak but she stopped him, drawing herself up to her full height and gave him a hard look. "Look here, Telson, this is something I can't afford a leak on, okay? It's sensitive. If you mention this to anyone, there's going to be trouble. You need to forget I was even here."

"I'd be more than happy to forget this encounter."

"Thanks for nothing."

"My pleasure."

**********

Chase told herself not to do it. Even as she dialed the number, she was thinking, I shouldn't do this. This is crazy. What am I thinking? Then she answered. "It's me. I know it's late but--"…

"It's okay." Rachael's voice was softly slurred and Chase knew she had wakened her. The thought brought with it a slew of images and she enjoyed every one of them.

Chase tried to clear the thoughts from her mind as she spoke. "I went to see Christena Snell this afternoon."

"How's she doing?"

"Her housekeeping is suffering and her personal hygiene could stand some improvement, but she wasn't foaming at the mouth…until I mentioned your name."

"Thanks for sharing. Is that what you called to tell me?"

There was a long silence before Chase answered. "No, that's not why I called."

Rachael waited but she didn't say anything more. "Am I supposed to guess the reason?"

"Can you?"

Rachael's voice seemed to catch. "I probably could, but should I?"

"I can't answer that. I've been doing a lot of things lately that I shouldn't be doing, so maybe you need to ask someone else that question."

"I'd rather ask you, Chase."

"I'm thirty-eight years old. You're twenty-six. That's twelve years difference."

"You know your math."

"I'm investigating you for a serious crime. I have a responsibility to find out the truth."

"Absolutely."

"But I'm not sorry I kissed you this morning. I'm not going to apologize."

A smile came to Rachael's face, despite the serious tone in Chase's voice. "I don't want you to apologize."

"I wanted to make sure you understood that."

"I do." Rachael waited as the silence grew again.

Chase finally spoke. "There's more."

"What is it?"

"I think Christena Snell is having an affair with another cop."

Rachael caught her breath and sat up in bed. She had been thinking of Chase and their kiss. When she heard her voice on the other end, she almost freaked. Now this. "Are you sure?"

"No. I'm not sure, but I'd heard she was and I went over there this afternoon. I wanted to decide for myself before I said anything."

"Did she admit it?"

"Of course not. She lied and threw me out of the house."

"How do you know she was lying?"

"IA personnel have built in truth detectors. I could tell."

Rachael smiled. "They have egos, too. Who's the guy she's sleeping with?"

"That I don't know. Yet. I had been thinking it was Hopper, but she said it wasn't and she was telling the truth, then."

"Hopper or not, this is big, Chase. This could be the motivation you've been looking for. Maybe Christena wanted to be with this other cop. They could have been working together to get rid of David and they set me up for it, just like Dad suggested. The officer's access would make the whole thing a snap." With sudden excitement, she swung her feet to the floor. "David told me the night he got shot that she'd thrown him out and he couldn't go home. She'd called him names and told him not to come back."

"None of the other people I've interviewed have said anything about marital problems."

"David wasn't a talker, at least not about his family."

"Did he say why she kicked him out?"

"Not really. Just that they'd fought and she wanted a divorce."

"Why kill him if she'd already asked him for a divorce?" Chase spoke as if to herself.

"Maybe there was a life-insurance policy. Maybe he would have fought her for the kid. Why does anyone kill his or her spouse instead of divorcing? If she and her lover did this, it certainly wouldn't be a first, would it?"

Another small silence built up, then Chase spoke. "Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

Rachael thought for a split second. In her mind, David's fight with Christena had been linked to his drinking and Rachael hadn't wanted to jeopardize his pension by mentioning either that night. But her own situation had changed since then. Because of the ballistics report and Christena's accusations, there was now more at stake. She took a deep breath. "David was drunk the night he died, Chase. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't a good idea but…."

"You're damned right, it wasn't a good idea. This is why you hesitated when I asked you if David used drugs, isn't it? You didn't want a screen done because you knew the family might lose his annuity if the truth got out. I admire your loyalty, but you should have known better, Rachael." Suspicion tinged her voice. "Is there anything else you might have 'forgotten'?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

Chase had asked her the same thing this morning. Right before she had told her not to investigate on her own. It was time to change the subject. "Look, we need to concentrate on the problem at hand, not my memory. We need to find out who it is that Christena's been seeing. That's more important."

Chase corrected her. "I need to find out. Me. Not you. Not even we. Do you hear me?" Chase's voice rumbled with her warning, reminding Rachael of the way she had spoken to her at the park. Chase's cold voice brought her back to the moment. "I mean it, Rachael. You're only going to make things harder on yourself. Leave the investigating to me."

**********

Chase caught Rachael walking out of her office right before six the next evening. She had deliberately waited to the end of the day to come see Rachael, but the effort had been costly. Instead of working in the intervening hours, she had stared at the clock. Last night, she had come to the conclusion that she had to know, once and for all, if Rachael and David had been lovers. Rachael's revelation that Snell had been drinking had been an eye-opener. What other secrets did Rachael have? She told herself she had to know the truth because of what it meant to the case, but her need went beyond that. It was personal. Very personal. "Officer Stevens, if you can spare a minute…" Rachael was saying good-night to the secretary Chase had talked to that first day. Both women looked up as Chase came closer. "I need to discuss a few things with you." She spoke formally then dipped her head to acknowledge the secretary. The secretary's brown eyes gave her no welcome.

Rachael looked at her. "Of course."

Chase took her by the elbow and maneuvered her out of earshot from the woman behind the desk. "I'd like to go somewhere quiet where we could talk. If you've got the time later tonight, do you think we could take a drive? Around nine or so?"

A momentary hesitation came across Rachael's features, then it seemed to disappear. "That would be fine. I had something to do, but I can reschedule it."

Chase wondered reflexively if Rachael had a date, then she answered her own question, reminding herself if she'd been seeing anyone, she would know about it. She shook her head. What other kind of proof did she need to show how clouded her judgment had become? She realized Rachael was staring at her. "I'll see you at nine, Rachael."

"I'll be waiting."

How in the hell could Chase have found out she had managed to locate Candy and set up another meeting? It seemed awfully coincidental that Chase had to see Rachael tonight of all nights. But then again, who could say? More things than she liked to consider seemed to rest on luck and nothing else. She called Candy on her way home and left a message on the girl's machine. "I'll get back to you and we can schedule another time, Candy." Fighting the traffic all the way from downtown to her neighborhood, she grabbed take-out Chinese from her usual place on the corner then drove home, munching on an egg roll. What did Chase want? Did she have something new to report on her case? Was she going to turn her loose? Or was she going to arrest her? The questions rattled around and grew, taking root in her imagination. Maybe she had learned the ballistics tests were wrong. Maybe Christena had confessed to engineering the whole event. Maybe a terrible mistake had been made and nothing was what it seemed to be.
She finished eating when she got home, took a shower and changed. By the time she had dried her hair and applied fresh makeup, it was almost nine. That's when she realized what she had done. Without even thinking about it, she had gotten ready as if for a date. She considered washing her face and combing her hair into a ponytail, but the doorbell rang. With a curse, she threw the lipstick she had been about to put on into the sink and went downstairs.

Chase had replaced her suit with a pair of jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt. She held a black ball cap in one hand and a silk scarf in the other. Rachael decided right then, if this had been a date, they wouldn't have made it far. She would have dragged Chase right inside and then up the stairs. Along with her silk scarf. She might just do it anyway.

"Are you up for a ride?" Chase tilted her head behind her and Rachael came to her senses. Her Porsche, with the top down, was parked in her driveway. Chase held up the scarf and explained. "For your hair."

Rachael smiled and lied. "I knew that."

Chase smiled back. "Of course."

Five minutes later, they were on the freeway and heading south. As the traffic eased and the endless fast-food places and office complexes gave way to farmland, Rachael found herself relaxing. If Chase had come to tell her she was under arrest, she was certainly doing it the right way. She was almost sorry when Chase slowed the sports car and took the exit. Turning into what looked like a down-home bar, she turned off the powerful engine and looked at her. "Best music for miles." She nodded her head toward the bar. "Coldest beers, too."

Rachael just stared at her. She was an IA cop who wore custom suits, taught college on the side and liked good music. The woman didn't even acknowledge that she worked brilliantly in a man's world, everyday. Nothing about Chase fell into neat categories. As Chase opened her door and helped her out, Rachael decided she needed to stop trying to put her in a box. There wasn't one that would fit.

The place was almost empty. Beer signs flashed over a polished mahogany bar and at the other end of the room was a small stage. In between the bar and the stage was a long wooden dance floor. Rachael looked at the other patrons in the bar. A few men sat near the bar, clearly gay and an exhausted looking salesman type took up one of the booths. The only other patrons, a straight couple, were seated near the back. They wore their guilt like bright red coats and Rachael wondered what their spouses were doing while they hid here and held hands. "I've seen a lot of bars in my life, especially after I joined the force, but this one takes the prize."

Chase smiled. "I complimented the music and the drinks. I didn't say anything about it's clientele."

"True." Rachael slid into the booth Chase indicated and issued a silent prayer of thanks that there was not a band on stage now. The idea of dancing with Chase was one she couldn't wrap her mind around. For one thing, she didn't want to get that close to her and for another…she didn't want to get that close to her. She just couldn't be sure of her control over her desire, right now.

Chase ordered a soft drink, but Rachael needed something stronger. With some reservation, she took Chase's suggestion and ordered a martini. She waited until the waitress left before speaking. "Are you sure, Chase?"

Chase nodded confidently. "It'll be fine, I promise."

They made small talk until the bleached blonde waitress returned with their drinks. Rachael took one sip, then arched her eyebrows as the martini slid down her throat in a fine cold rush.

Chase smiled at her expression. "I told you. One of these days you'll start to believe what I say."

She took another sip then set her glass down. "I'm afraid that day might be closer than you think?"

"Why is that?"

Instead of answering, she reached into her purse and pulled out the dollar bill, pushing it toward Chase. "I owe you this."

Chase made no move to take the money. She leaned closer and her voice took on a soft gentle tone. "Your friends disappeared on you?"

Rachael nodded her throat stinging and she couldn't blame the drink. "I talked to the last one today. I thought she could help me with…" She stopped but it was too late. Chase already understood what she had done. She could read it in her eyes, so she finished her sentence quietly. "I thought she might tell me something about Jonathan Hopper, but she didn't know him."

"No one seems to be on your side anymore."

She nodded. Giving her a moment, Chase took a drink and stayed silent. Rachael appreciated the fact that she didn't try to analyze the situation or give her advice. When she changed the subject, Rachael appreciated it even more. "I submitted your protest to my boss."

"So you didn't bring me out here to arrest me?"

"I wouldn't take you for a ride then throw the cuffs on you. That would be too cruel, even for me."

Rachael took another swallow of her martini. "Actually, I thought it might be a nice way to break the news. How much more time is this going to take?"

"My captain will sit on your protest for a while. Then we'll have a meeting. Then another one." Chase shrugged. "I can't answer that question. I have no idea. Because of who you are, they'll drag their feet before filing any charges."

Rachael caught her breath, then let it out slowly. "Did you ever find out anything about Hopper? I know you said he's not Christena's lover, but I still think he threw the brick."

"I think he had something to do with it, too. I did some checking and the timing fits. Plus, I got the lab to confirm that your brick came from the same batch as the ones on his lake house."

"Chase! Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Because it doesn't matter. Hopper's too dumb to plan a dog napping much less a complicated frame-up job. In addition, he has no motive. Unless you're crazy, being pissed about a promotion isn't a good enough motivation to kill someone. Hopper's not crazy. He's just stupid. He deposited fifteen hundred dollars cash into his checking account the day after your window was shattered. I'm working the possibilities, but I need to find out where that money came from before I do anything else." Chase's expression changed as she reached across the table and covered Rachael's hand with her own. "Forget about Hopper. He doesn't matter. I brought you out here for another reason, and it's important I have the truth. I've asked you this question before, but it's even more important that you answer me truthfully now."

Rachael sat as still as she could, her heart racing inside her chest. "What do you want to know?"

"Were you and David Snell having an affair?"

Her relief was so palpable, she knew Chase could see it. "No." Her eyes locked on Chase's before she continued. "I never slept with David. I don't mess around with married men…" She had started to add her usual or cops, but what was the point? She knew that she would not only prove herself wrong about not messing around with cops, if Chase wanted it, too. But she would do something that she promised herself she would never do again. She would have an affair with a woman. "We were not lovers, Chase."

From somewhere in the back, a jukebox switched to a slow song. Chase seemed to sit in judgment for a moment, then relief, or something damn close to it came and went across her face. She stood and held her hand out to Rachael. "Let's dance."

Rachael looked around the bar and with a shrug, she slid from the booth and joined Chase on the empty wooden floor. When the song finished, they continued to sway and in a second, another one started up. Five tracks later, Rachael had lost what little will she had to stay out of Chase's arms. Instead, she felt as if she never wanted to leave them.

Chase looked down at her. She could have been wrong, but the expression on Chase's face seemed to reflect her own need. Chase pulled her a little closer and whispered in her ear. "Let's get out of here. I want to be alone with you."

Rachael was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"I didn't say it was. But I still want to do it."

Leaving enough cash on the table for their drinks and a tip, Chase grabbed her hand and they walked out to the Porsche.

As soon as they were in the front seat, Chase pulled Rachael to her and began to kiss her. Rachael's lips were as soft as she remembered, her skin as fragrant. She wasn't the kind of woman who went for heavy perfume and Chase was glad. Her natural scent was heady enough. Helping her lift herself over the gearbox, Chase brought her into her lap and Rachael curled around her. Her hands immediately finding their way to the back of Chase's head and neck, the tip of her tongue coming out to tease Chase's bottom lip. The feel of Rachael's body against hers made her moan and suddenly she felt like a teenager in the back seat for the very first time. Except for one big difference. She had been in a roaring hurry at that age, but Chase knew better now. She took her time and slowly savored each sensation. The lingering taste of gin on Rachael's lips, the tiny whimpers she made as she snuggled closer, the satin feel of her hair. She took off Rachael's jacket then ease one of the thin straps of her camisole down, pressing her lips against the hollow of her collarbone. She kissed her way back to her mouth as her hands dropped to Rachael's breasts. Beneath the fabric of her top, her nipples stood up and Chase gently rubbed a thumb over first one and then the other. Her breasts were full and begging for attention. Chase was just about to dip her hand inside the camisole when the distant ringing of a cell phone penetrated the fog of her desire. Cursing loudly, Chase fumbled for the phone at her waistband. Rachael started to move away, but she grabbed her and held her still, somehow shaking the phone open with her other hand and answering. "Davidson here."

Chase sounded out of breath, because she was out of breath, but Bobby Palmer didn't seem to notice. The homicide lieutenant had more important things on his mind. "We got trouble. The hospital just called and something has happened with John Doe Two. We gotta get to the hospital fast."

"Shit." Releasing Rachael, Chase ran a hand through her hair. "Is he conscious? Has he said anything?"

"I don't have time to explain. Meet me at the hospital as soon as you can."

"I'm on my way." Chase snapped the phone shut, then looked across the car at Rachael. "I've got to get to the medical center. Something's going down with John Doe Two."

Rachael buckled her seatbelt. "I'm coming with you."

Her hand on the key, Chase looked at her. "No, you're not."

"But I have…"

"I'll call you after I get more details." Her voice was firm, as the engine roared to life and she put the car in gear.

"But--"

Chase shook her head. "No buts, Rachael. You can't come with me and you know it, so why are you even asking?"

Rachael wanted to scream because it means so much, but they hit the freeway at eighty and above the roar of the wind, any conversation became impossible. Forced into silence, Rachael fumed. She understood Chase's position, but she needed to know what was happening. Her whole future depended on it.

They arrived back at her house quicker than she would have thought possible. She argued her case the entire time Chase walked her to the front door. When they reached her steps, Chase lifted her chin, stared down at her and said two words. "I'm sorry."

"You're 'sorry'?" she repeated angrily. "'Sorry' isn't good enough, Chase. You need to take me with you."

"I can't do that, Rachael, and you know it."

"But--"

Chase lowered her head and cradled Rachael's face between her hands, kissing her with such passion that she almost made Rachael forget the argument. Almost.

Rachael looked up at her breathlessly. "Chase…please."

Her eyes went cold; then she kissed Rachael again, hard and fast. "I'll call you."

Standing where Chase left her until the taillights of the Porsche had faded, Rachael went inside, frustrated and angry. Her knees were trembling, she realized unexpectedly, and an emotion that was at once empty and foreign stormed inside her. She wasn't sure if she was more angry because Chase had to leave or because she refused to take her with her.
Either way, every nerve was on full alert. She slammed into the kitchen, grabbed the first glass in the cabinet and poured herself a drink of water. She guzzled it as if it were the martini she'd left behind, then she set the glass down so hard, the plastic cracked. She picked it up and glared at it. The surface had remained intact, but the plastic itself was completely cracked, a thousand spider webs of weakness now threatening its integrity. Lifting her eyes, she stared blindly out the window over the sink, a set of headlights sweeping through the darkness as a car took off. She looked back down at her hands. The damned glass was a perfect metaphor for her entire life. She was holding herself together, but just barely. With the slightest nudge, she would shatter. Opening her fingers, she let the tumbler fall into the sink. It bounced once, rolled toward the center, then came to a stop on its side. She turned with a sigh and went upstairs, but she didn't even try to sleep. Instead, she called Chase too many times to count. Each time, Chase had no news. She gave up at three; then, two hours later, her phone rang.

Chase sounded strange; her voice seemed strained. "He's dead."

"Shit!" Disappointment rippled over her as she sat up in the bed. "Did he say anything before he went? Please tell me he said something."

"He didn't tell us a damn thing." Chase paused for several moments. "He was gone before I got there."

Rachael needed something. "What about an ID?"

"His name is Rico Sanchez. Palmer said he has a sheet a mile long. I've ordered a copy of it--"

"Stop right there. If the guy had a sheet, why has it taken us this long to ID him? We should have had his name the day David got shot. Please don't tell me he wasn't printed."

"He was printed, but somewhere between the hospital and headquarters, the cards got lost. Nobody realized what had happened until he died and the morgue printed him again."

Chase paused, an undercurrent in her silence something Rachael couldn't ignore. Gripping the phone with both hands, she carefully swung her feet to the floor. "So what aren't you saying, Chase?"

"Somebody came into his hospital room and smothered him with a pillow. He didn't just die…he was murdered."

Rachael's mouth fell open. "Jesus. What…? When…?"

"The staff was holding a meeting when one of the nurses realized she'd left something in his room. She went back to get it and caught a guy in a mask beside the bed. He knocked her out, then finished the job he'd started. They locked down the hospital as soon as they discovered her, but he was long gone by the time she came to and explained what had happened."

"We didn't have a guard on Sanchez, Chase?"

"There was no reason to."

"I'm coming down there."

"No!" Chase lowered her voice and spoke again. "Don't even think about it, Rachael."

"But, Chase--…"

"Don't do it." Rachael had never heard the tone Chase's voice now held. "If you show up, I swear to God, Rachael, I'll arrest you myself. Do you understand me?"

She exhaled slowly. "Yes, I understand."

"Don't say a word about this to anyone, either." She repeated herself. "Anyone, Rachael!" Then she hung up.

There would be no more sleeping. In a daze, Rachael got up and dressed. All she felt was confusion, a thousand questions running through her head. Clearly someone had a stake in keeping Sanchez quiet, but who? And why? Could Hopper have done this? She felt a tiny bit of hope, but it was quickly followed by a dose of reality. Until she got more information, she simply couldn't understand the situation completely. After a fast cup of coffee, she went into the office. She had been there a little more than an hour when a man appeared in her doorway. Looking up in surprise, she met her father's eyes.

"I've got some info for you," he said without any greeting. "But you didn't hear it from me."

She had called him right after talking to Kim. It had been another one of those awkward conversations and when she had hung up, Rachael had wondered why she had phoned him in the first place. He had said so little she wondered if she had imagined the closeness that she had felt the day she stopped at his house. "Okay." She motioned him to a chair across from her desk. She thought of telling him about the shooter, but then Chase's warning came right behind it. She stayed quiet.

"You told me the other day that you had learned that someone wasn't being faithful. You remember who that was?"

He clearly didn't want to speak Christena Snell's name out loud for anyone to possibly hear. Rachael felt her skin prickle at his cautiousness. "Yes, I do."

"I know the identity of someone who might be connected to that situation."

This time it took her a second, but she finally got it. "You know who her…accomplice is?"

"I do and you do, too."

She had been rocking back in her chair, but all at once, Rachael froze.

"You made his acquaintance at an inauspicious time the other day. I wasn't there but I heard about it later. He was sitting right by her and holding her hand."

Rachael thought for a minute, then sucked in her breath. Kevin Connelly had been next to Christena on the sofa when she had attacked Rachael. A few days later, he had made a point of speaking to her at the firing range. If he were Christena Snell's lover, it could explain a lot and raise some more questions, as well. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure of the information. What it means is something you're going to have to handle." He stood up before she could thank him, then walked out.

Continued...

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