by Jae
Ray gave her a side-glance. "Mixed messages?"
"Yeah. One minute, I'm telling her she can trust me no matter what, she can call me day and night, and I'll be there for her... and when she takes me up on it, I play the 'it's just the job' card."
"No one says you can't get to know her," Ray said, allowing himself a grin, "as long as it's not in the biblical sense." He dodged the punch Aiden threw at him. "Okay, okay, just kidding, Aiden. I know she's not up for anything like that. You should be okay as long as you keep it on a friendly, supportive basis, at least till the investigation is over. That doesn't mean you have to play the emotionless detective. You're a human being, Aiden, not Robocop."
That finally got him a laugh. "Thanks, Ray."
Ray waved her away. "Hey, maybe I should ask those shrinks what the usual fee is for such great advice." Not waiting for an answer, he pulled into a parking space in front of Dawn Kinsley's office and got out of the car.
Next to a student union office from the nearby Portland State University, a discreet sign announced the joint practice of A. Barry, PhD, C. Rosenbloom, MD, and D. Kinsley, PhD.
"Normally, wild horses couldn't make me go in there," Ray announced, shuddering dramatically but nevertheless opening the door.
* * *
The reception area of the psychologists' office looked like any other doctor's office Aiden had ever seen. Tasteful watercolors and photographs showing soothing landscapes were hanging on white walls. An open door led to a waiting room with a pink plastic table and toys in one corner and a rack with magazines in the other.
On closer inspection, Aiden detected what she believed to be Dawn's touch on the room: a group of crooked Play-Dough animals, made by some of the children she treated, was proudly displayed on the reception desk. Colorful cartoons and psychologist jokes adorned one wall, and instead of a coatrack, patients could hang their jackets on a wooden cactus next to the door. It was exactly the bizarrely creative but cozy jigsaw-puzzle style Aiden had come to associate with Dawn.
"Can I help you?" A gray-haired secretary looked up from her computer.
Ray stepped toward the reception desk. "Are any of the doctors in?"
The secretary nodded. "They're all in today. But I suppose you're the police, wanting to talk to Doc Kinsley and not a couple here for marriage counseling, are you?"
"Are we, darling?" Ray's shining white teeth flashed against his dark skin as he shot a grin at Aiden.
"We're not." Aiden flashed her badge instead of a smile. She wasn't in the mood for jokes, too occupied with staring at the secretary in surprise. Dawn's already back at the office, counseling rape victims, when it hasn't even been a week since she herself has been raped? Aiden didn't need to have a PhD in psychology to know that Dawn was either punishing herself for any self-perceived contribution to her rape or in deep denial, trying to forget about her own problems by dealing with someone else's. Aiden knew all about that. Firsthand.
"I can't comprehend how someone could do something so terrible to someone as sweet as Doc Kinsley." The secretary leaned across her desk and looked right and left as if to make sure no one could overhear her words. "I work for all three of the doctors, but she's my favorite. Don't tell the others, though. Psychologists' egos, you know?"
One of the doors leading to the psychologists' offices opened, and a visibly upset woman stepped out, only stopping at the reception desk to make a new appointment with Dr. Kinsley.
A minute later, the door opened a second time, admitting Dawn Kinsley, who looked only marginally better than her patient. Her blond hair was tousled as if she had run nervous hands through it, and the dark circles under her eyes had become even more pronounced.
Aiden hadn't seen her since their rather abruptly ending dinner three days ago. She couldn't help wondering if Dawn would have fared as badly as she seemed to have if Aiden hadn't cut her last safety line by trying to distance herself from the situation.
The smile that appeared on Dawn's face when she saw the detectives almost reached her eyes.
Aiden found herself walking toward Dawn without conscious thought. "Hey," she said, not knowing what else to say after their less than spectacular last meeting.
"Hi." This time, Dawn didn't help her out by filling the awkward silence.
Aiden shifted her weight. Her fingers played with the pager on her belt. "I tried to call you at home. I didn't know you were already back at the office, treating patients." She was careful to keep any form of judgment from her voice.
Dawn shrugged. "I'm not treating patients per se; I just came in to finish some reports, but a client called for an emergency appointment. Her rapist is up for parole, and she wanted some support before the parole hearing."
Aiden nodded. She respected and admired Dawn for her professionalism and her willingness to help her patients, but that didn't keep her from worrying. Who counsels the counselor? Who's there for her? she wondered. "It's good to have someone who supports you in situations like that," she commented.
"Yes, it is." Dawn studied Aiden, probably wondering whether she was talking about the patient with the parole hearing or Dawn's own situation.
"Someone who can really be there for you because he or she isn't a close friend, all tangled up in his own emotions." Aiden stepped closer so no one would overhear her. "Did you think about seeing a therapist?"
Dawn smiled sadly. "I am a therapist," she reminded.
"Yes, of course, but you're also human and the victim of a violent crime. When it concerns ourselves, all the experience, all the knowledge about rape becomes meaningless. Even if you know all the symptoms, you can't prevent them. We react like any other victim." Aiden was speaking from experience. She couldn't think about her mother's rape like a detective.
"I'll think about it," Dawn promised. She squared her shoulders. "Now, what brings you to my humble workplace?" She opened the door to her office and beckoned them to follow her.
It didn't resemble the austere doctors' offices to which Aiden was accustomed. Behind a desk, where a small toy served as a paperweight for a pile of folders, Dawn's diploma hung side by side with a photograph showing two men in the dark uniforms of the Portland Police Bureau.
Aiden circled two yellow beanbags and stepped closer to study the photograph. The older man seemed to look back at her with calm, gray-green eyes. His tanned face held a serious expression, but there were deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. The family resemblance to Dawn couldn't be missed. The younger man beside him grinned rakishly, one hand proudly resting next to the gold shield on his belt. A rookie, Aiden assessed, still thinking that nothing could ever hurt him as long as he wears that uniform. But obviously something or someone had since Dawn had spoken of her father and brother only in the past tense.
Aiden turned back around and sank down onto one of the chairs when Dawn gestured toward them. She glanced at Ray, who silently took the chair beside her, resting one foot on the edge of a beanbag. He made no move to take over the questioning. "I've forgotten to ask you something concerning Dr. Renshaw's theory," Aiden finally said.
"That would be the theory about him... the rapist... being someone I've met before?"
The two detectives nodded.
"It's clear that he's not a close acquaintance, but could he possibly be the rapist of one of your clients? Someone you testified against or someone who saw you holding the hand of a victim at a parole hearing or something like that?" Aiden asked.
Dawn shook her head. "I don't think so. Most of my patients do one-on-one and group counseling with me at least once or twice a week, often for years at a time. I spend a lot of time with these women, and I care about them. I wouldn't forget the face of one of their rapists if I saw it."
Dawn spoke with such conviction that Aiden believed it without further question. "Then perhaps one of those you never saw? One that never even got caught." If the rapist had not been registered in any of their databases and the victims didn't know him, he could still know them. Perhap
s he had followed them after the rape, basking in his power to destroy their lives, and had learned of their weekly appointments with the therapist. "Did any of your patients ever describe a similar rape? A rapist who broke into the apartment at night and..." Aiden stopped and bit her lip. Dawn didn't need to be reminded of the details; she knew them better than anyone else.
Dawn shook her head.
"No? Think about it carefully," Aiden pleaded. Their investigation was at a dead end, and this was the only possible lead they had.
"Even if I could remember a similar case, I wouldn't tell you." Dawn glanced at the detectives, who looked at her with disbelief. "I want to catch the bastard as much as you do," she told them bluntly, "and I'll do anything I possibly can to help you with the case, but I cannot disclose my clients' confidences. I can't give you a list of my patients, and I can't disclose anything they might have told me in one of the sessions. I have to protect patient confidentiality. You know that." For the first time the usually gentle woman met them with unshakable determination and an iron will.
So, there's steel under all that velvet if need be. Aiden wanted to be annoyed with her, but she couldn't. She was frustrated and disappointed, but she had to admire Dawn's selfless determination to protect her vulnerable patients no matter what the personal costs to herself might be. "We're at a dead end," Aiden admitted.
"I know."
Dawn seemed to accept it calmly, but Aiden could see the shadows darting across her eyes, making them appear like gray rain clouds. She couldn't leave Dawn like that. Not again. "Do you need a ride home?"
"I have my car." Dawn said it almost regretfully.
Aiden grinned. "That little sardine can?"
Dawn shrugged. "You know what my colleagues say about people who drive big cars?"
"Please, come in, my fee is three hundred dollars an hour?" Aiden joked.
Dawn laughed, her eyes now appearing more green than gray. "That they feel the need to compensate for something," she corrected.
Ray was still laughing when the two detectives left the building. "You're good for her." He studied her over the roof of their car. "You can make her laugh even when I'm sure she feels like her whole world is crumbling. Don't give that up. At least not totally, okay?"
Aiden looked back at the small car parked in front of the psychologist's office. "I'll try."
CHAPTER 9
AIDEN PUSHED through the double doors leading to the courtroom. She noticed that she was early. The judge hadn't taken his seat on the bench yet, and the two attorneys were just unpacking their briefcases.
Kade seemed to sense Aiden's gaze on her. She looked up from her pretrial rituals and smiled at her before putting on her courtroom poker face again.
Aiden swallowed the last bite of the sandwich she had wolfed down on her way to the courtroom. The gallery was still relatively empty, so she had her choice of seats. She decided for a seat on the prosecution's side of the courtroom. This way, she could show her support for the People and had a better view of Kade when she sat down at her table.
She leaned back in anticipation of the Kade Matheson show. Some popcorn and a cold pop, and this would be perfect, she thought with a grin.
Someone sat down in the seat next to her, annoying Aiden because there were still a lot of other unoccupied seats. She was here to watch Kade at work, not for small talk with whoever had just sought out her company.
"Hello, Detective Carlisle."
Her annoyance vanished and was suddenly replaced with worry when Aiden looked up and recognized the woman next to her. "Dawn! Have you been looking for me?" Her heart started to pound. "Did something happen?"
"No." Dawn calmed her worries with a quick smile. "Nothing happened. I wasn't looking for you, but I'll surely be glad for the company in a few minutes. I'm here for the trial."
The trial... Aiden attempted to remember which case was being tried today. She wasn't particular when it came to her Kade fix; she wasn't really here for the legal aspects of the cases. Wasn't it that pizza boy raping three women? Or is that tomorrow's case?
Aiden couldn't come up with the right case, so she studied Dawn instead. She looks good, Aiden decided. There were still shadows under her eyes, but the bruises on her cheek and throat were fading. Dawn had traded the jeans from the week before in favor of a dark gray pantsuit, the matching blazer folded over her lap. A silver silk blouse, buttoned to the very last button, made her eyes appear more gray than green.
Aiden suspected that this was not Dawn's usual style. She remembered a vivacious psychologist at the seminar, her charmingly freckled collarbone exposed by three undone buttons. Being raped changes everything, Aiden reminded herself, even the way you dress.
"Are you here supporting a patient?" Aiden asked, suspecting that nothing but her sense of duty could get Dawn to stay in the same room as a rapist.
Dawn nodded. "I promised I'd watch at least the opening statements for her. Was this one of your cases, or are you here for another reason?"
Regretfully, it hadn't been her case. Aiden was at a loss, searching for an answer that was a little more appropriate than "I'm here to ogle a beautiful lawyer without her or anyone else noticing." "No," she admitted, "but you know how it is." Aiden gestured to the cuffed defendant sitting behind his table. "Just showing a little police presence to make sure he doesn't try anything stupid."
Dawn's gaze never moved away from the rapist. "Good idea."
They both fell silent when the judge took his place and the trial began.
Kade Matheson rose to give her opening statement, patiently walking the jurors through the timeline of events.
Dawn watched for a while and then leaned toward Aiden, who had to hold herself back from breathing in Dawn's enticing scent. "She's good, isn't she?" Dawn whispered.
Aiden nodded proudly. "Yes, she is." Kade was confident without appearing arrogant, cool without being uncaring – and to Aiden's surprise, unable to distract Aiden's attention from the woman next to her. She blinked in disbelief and cleared her throat. "Ahem... you know a lot about law?" She distracted herself by wondering how Dawn could assess Kade's abilities as a lawyer so quickly.
"I know a lot about body language." Dawn leaned toward Aiden again as she spoke, making Aiden want to loosen her collar because of the sudden rise in her body temperature.
You wanted to keep your distance, remember? Seems like you managed to do the complete opposite.
Thankfully, Dawn seemed to be unaware of Aiden's internal debate and her bodily reaction to Dawn's nearness. "She makes constant eye contact with the jurors, and she chose the perfect distance to the jury box – close enough to draw them in but not so close that she would be encroaching on the jury's comfort zone."
"Trials by jury have a lot to do with psychology," Aiden agreed, glad to be in control of herself once again.
Dawn nodded and watched as Kade sat back down and the defense attorney began his opening statement. "See how she isn't even fidgeting when opposing counsel points out the weaknesses of her case?"
"After two years with the Sexual Assault Detail, I'm sure she could listen to the graphic biography of a serial killer without fidgeting," Aiden said, watching Kade lean back as if she didn't have a care in the world, almost bored with the defense attorney's opening statement.
Dawn inclined her head. "She learned it earlier than that. I think she had the kind of mother who had her sit down with the grown-ups at boring dinner parties. I'm sure building paper planes out of a napkin wasn't very popular with Mrs. Matheson. I can practically hear her: 'Stop fidgeting! You are making a nuisance of yourself, young lady!'"
Aiden's eyes widened. She had met Kade's mother only once. Mrs. Matheson was elegant, organized, and cultured. She was pleasant company, and Aiden had liked her but thought she was lacking the passionate fire her daughter possessed. She could hear her say the same thing Dawn had just said. "Do you know Mrs. Matheson?"
"I know body language," Dawn repeated with a smile.
> Aiden looked down her body, wondering what her own body language might tell the psychologist. She sat still for a minute, folding her hands on her knees before she noticed that trying not to have any body language was impossible. The stiff posture resulting from her attempt spoke loud and clear. She let her body have its freedom again and leaned toward Dawn so she would understand her against the background of defense counsel's opening statement. "So, what would your mother have said to your building paper airplanes out of napkins?"
Dawn smiled. "There weren't any napkins at our dinner table. My mother was happy if she could get us to keep still long enough to eat dinner while sitting down. My family was never very big on formalities."
"Growing up free and unrestricted, huh?"
"Unrestricted?" Dawn opened her green-gray eyes comically wide. "Are you kidding? My dad was a cop. We had to play by the rules, believe me."
