Chapter nineteen

" I swear, Nicole. It's after six. You can't keep doing this every night."

Nicole looked from her computer to Catherine, frowning as Catherine walked into her room. " I'm not working. I'm reading the paper." She sat back, cocking her head. " Catherine, one of our group sessions about three years ago, wasn't there a woman named Sandra Poole? "

" Three years ago? I can barely remember one session ago, much less three years, " she said, as she shook her head. " Why? "

" They found a body at the airport. Raped and strangled, " Nicole said. " Sandra Poole. The name is so familiar."

" Get up."

" What? "

" Let me check the accounts."

" I know how to check the accounts, Catherine, " Nicole said as she moved her chair out of the way, releasing the mouse to the other woman.

" Right. I've seen you muddle through it, and I'd like to get home within the hour."

" Funny." But she watched as Catherine quickly pulled up their accounts.

" I'll just do a search. It'll be easier than guessing what year."

" I didn't know I could search all the years at once, " Nicole said. " I thought you had it broken down."

" It is, and I've shown this to you before. Just click 'combine' and it resorts them into one file." Which it did. " How do you spell it? E on the end or not? "

" Yes."

It only took a second before a file for Poole, Sandra was pulled up.

" Damn, " Nicole murmured.

" You think it's the same person? "

Nicole stared at the picture of Sandra Poole, a woman in her forties with bleached blond hair. Then she read the brief notes. Raped by her husband, beaten. Two weeks in the hospital. One suicide attempt. She looked at Catherine. " Let's hope not. Nobody deserves that twice in one lifetime."

Jake twirled the beer bottle in her hand, watching as Rick peeled the label off of his.

" It just hit me, you know." He finally looked up. " We have nothing in common."

" You must have something in common. You got married, " Jake reminded him.

" I know you told me it was too soon. Please don't bring that up again."

Jake motioned for the waitress to bring them two more, then turned her full attention on Rick. " When did this suddenly hit you, Rick? "

He shrugged. " I'm sitting at home one night, listening to her go on and on about the latest house they're decorating, and I realized... I didn't really like her, " he said quietly.

" Are you shitting me, man? "

" And I don't think she likes me, either, " he added.

" What the hell is going on? "

" I talk police stuff, she freaks out, thinks I'm going to get killed. She talks decorating shit, and I want to throw up."

Jake smiled. " Rick, she's a woman. They're going to talk decorating shit."

" You don't."

Jake arched an eyebrow. " You want to date a lesbian? "

He let out a deep breath. " No. But you were right two years ago when you said I should wait. I mean, here she was, this beautiful girl, all the guys loved her... and she wanted me."

" Damn ego, " Jake murmured. " I told you."

" Yeah. I remember your words, Jake. No need to go over it again."

" Have you talked to her about it? "

He shook his head, pausing as the waitress brought them fresh beers. " No. Hell, we don't talk. We tell about our day, that's it. Then we sit in front of the TV, me thinking about you, wondering when the hell you're coming back, and she's looking at decorating magazines."

Jake reached across the table and took his hand. " I missed you, too."

He looked up, and Jake was surprised at the tears in his eyes.

" I just didn't have anyone to talk to, you know. And you're like... my best friend, Jake."

" I swear, Rick, if I were straight, I'd be all over your ass."

He grinned. " Don't sweet-talk me."

Jake squeezed his hand, then pulled away. " You could have called me anytime, you know. I get service up there."

" I know. But I knew you wanted some alone-time, away from all this. I didn't want to lay my shit on you, too."

" You're right. I needed some time alone. Had to get my head straight."

" And did you? "

Jake shrugged. " Enough. I still have... well, I still have dreams."

" About the kid? "

Jake nodded.

" But the shrink cleared you."

" I didn't tell her."

" Oh, Jake. Shit, I know you. You're not talking this out with anyone, are you? You're dealing with it all inside that little head of yours, and the only outlet is your dreams."

" Why, Dr. Chase, how very astute of you, " Jake said dryly.

Rick leaned forward. " Why didn't you tell her about the dreams? "

" Well, for one thing, she wouldn't have cleared me to come back, and I needed to come back. And you're right. Maybe the dreams are an outlet so maybe it's not such a bad thing."

It was Rick's turn to take her hand. " It wasn't your fault, Jake."

" We don't really know that, Rick. We'll never know that."

" Jake..."

" No. It's okay. I've accepted that. The dirt bag is dead, the kid is dead, and Officer Perkins is dead. Hell, I should be dead, too. It was one big shooting fest."

" You almost were, " Rick reminded her.

" Yeah. But thanks to my partner's famous tourniquet, I survived."

" Jake... wasn't your bullet. You've got to let it go."

Jake's eyes held his. " Ricky, for the rest of my life, I'll never be able to let it go."

Rick shook his head. " You can't carry that weight with you, Jake. It'll just make you crazy. And don't think it hasn't crossed my mind that the next time, you might be afraid to pull your weapon, to use it. Enough of the guys have talked about it. But I told them I'd rather have you watching my back than any of their sorry asses." He drained the last of his beer and twirled the bottle in his hands. " You love me just like I love you. We're not going to let anything happen to the other. No matter what."

Jake couldn't help but smile. God, could she have a better partner?