Conflict of Interest Read online

  As Aiden walked on, she could see dark shadows under her eyes, evidence that Dawn probably hadn't slept well in days. The small hands clinging to the steering wheel were shaking. Twice, she saw Dawn reaching for the driver's door as if to open it, but each time she hesitated at the last second.

  No considerations of professionalism could hold Aiden back now. She bridged the remaining space between them in two long strides and knocked softly on the driver's side window.

  Dawn jumped, almost going through the roof of the car. She shrank back from the window, needing a long minute to discover that it was Aiden and not an attacking rapist standing before her. Visibly shaken, she rolled down the window but stayed in the safety of the car. "Detective Carlisle."

  Aiden found herself searching for words. "Sorry for scaring you."

  Dawn didn't try to claim Aiden hadn't. "I've been sitting here for almost an hour," she said, staring back at the apartment building. "Ten minutes ago, I had almost talked myself into going in when I saw a tall man with black hair walking down the street. I couldn't leave the car." She pinched the bridge of her nose, on which a new pair of turquoise-rimmed glasses rested. "Is there anything new in my... case?"

  Aiden looked into hopeful gray-green eyes and bit her lip. "Sorry, no good news. DNA didn't match anyone with a prior criminal record, but we're not giving up."

  Dawn was silent for a moment. "Thanks for telling me in person," she said quietly. She obviously believed Aiden had come only to tell her the bad news.

  Aiden bounced on the balls of her feet in front of the car. So, this is your chance to say "You're welcome" and leave. You certainly fulfilled your duties as a cop. But, truth be told, she wasn't here as a cop. She saw Dawn stare at her apartment building, clearly intimidated by it. Aiden had no doubt that she would sit in her car and fight her fears until the sun went down. Only then would she leave, too afraid of the darkness and what it might bring to stay any longer. Could she turn her back and leave the scared woman behind like this, just because she was a police officer? Didn't she have duties beyond that of a cop – the duties of a human being providing simple comfort to a scared soul?

  Hesitantly, she cleared her throat. "I'm not trying to take over your life or make your decisions for you, but I heard you were going bed hunting, and I thought you could use a silent, nondeciding companion in your quest for a new bed."

  Dawn stared at her.

  "You're free to tell me to go to hell, you know," Aiden pointed out when Dawn remained silent.

  That shook Dawn out of her paralysis. "No," she said quickly. "No, I don't want that. I'd really like to have some company."

  "Okay." Aiden found herself smiling at Dawn. "How about a trip to a furniture store? I think we should leave removing your old bed for another day." Here you go again, Carlisle, she reprimanded herself. That was practically an offer to help her again. What happened to "one short look around, then back to your own place"? But then she looked down at Dawn's trembling hands. It wasn't safe to let her drive through the city on her own, Aiden told herself. "Why don't I drive?" she suggested. "I've got the bigger car."

  With obvious relief, Dawn grabbed the lever to open the car door – only to be met with resistance. She had forgotten that she had locked herself in the car. Blushing, she grabbed her keys, hit the lever, and opened the door.

  Aiden didn't comment. She could only imagine how frightening even everyday things in her life suddenly were for Dawn. She led Dawn back to her car and opened the passenger side door for her. "So, where to?" she asked. She would be careful to let Dawn make all the decisions.

  Dawn gave directions to a furniture store but otherwise remained silent during the short trip.

  Half an hour later, they were strolling along rows of beds. Dawn kept her shopping restricted to the part of the store that presented the single beds, obviously not intending to share her bed with anyone in the foreseeable future. Dawn sat down on the edge of a small single bed, carefully testing its mattress. "What do you think?" She looked up at Aiden.

  Aiden smiled down at the softly bouncing woman and shrugged. "Shopping advice isn't really my forté," she admitted. "The decision is all yours."

  "Really helpful, Detective." Dawn bounced some more in her attempt to test the mattress.

  A young furniture salesman approached.

  Aiden assessed him with a trained glance. With his confident stride and rakish grin, he was well aware of his effect on women and not afraid to use it. God, I hope he doesn't try to come on to Dawn, she thought. She knew that Dawn would most likely be overwhelmed even with light flirting from this stranger.

  "We have some newer models in the back," the salesclerk said. He tried to take Dawn by the elbow to lead her to another part of the store, but she sidestepped his grip and took refuge in Aiden's closeness.

  The salesclerk blinked in surprise and directed his glance to Aiden for the first time, now looking her up and down. "Ah."

  It took a few seconds until Dawn brought her automatic reaction under control, but then she stepped back from Aiden and nodded at the salesman.

  "I don't think that's really what you're looking for," the salesclerk said, pointing at the bed at which Dawn had been looking. "If you would follow me, please." He kept a respectful distance from the two women as he led them away from the single bed Dawn had tried out. He stopped in front of a comfortable looking king-sized bed. "That," he pointed back to the row of single beds and winked at Dawn, "may be long enough for a small thing like you, but I doubt it would be very comfortable for her." He nodded his head in Aiden's direction, then at the larger bed in front of them. "This is more like it."

  Jesus! He thinks we're a couple buying a bed together, Aiden realized. She swallowed her embarrassment and held back a sharp reprimand, waiting for Dawn's reaction instead.

  Dawn, however, seemed blissfully unaware of the clerk's assumption. "Oh, no, no, it's not for her, I'm the one who's buying the bed."

  "Oh, sorry." The salesclerk looked down at his shoes. "I thought... so, the bed's just for you?"

  Dawn looked up, sensing that she had missed the undertones of their conversation. Her gaze wandered from the salesman to Aiden. Suddenly, she laughed, a surprised but not shocked sound. "Yes, I'm the one who will be sleeping in the bed," she confirmed. "The only one. She's just along to do the heavy lifting."

  So, whatever Dawn Kinsley is, Aiden thought while Dawn decided on one of the single beds, she's not a homophobe. Not that it matters for the investigation.

  Neither of them commented on the salesclerk's assumption as they left the furniture store.

  "Have you eaten yet?" Dawn asked when Aiden started the car.

  Aiden busied herself with looking into the rearview mirror before she pulled out into traffic. She hadn't taken the time to eat, but going to dinner with a victim in one of her cases... No, she decided, this has to stop right now.

  "I'd really like it if you would accept an invitation to dinner as a thank-you for all of your help," Dawn continued before Aiden could voice her answer.

  Aiden started to shake her head when she heard the faint rumbling of Dawn's stomach. "Sounds like I'm not the only one who hasn't eaten yet."

  "I didn't have much of an appetite lately," Dawn confessed quietly.

  God! Aiden groaned inwardly. How can I say no now? A quick glance to her right showed Dawn's hopeful gaze directed at her. It was obvious that Dawn felt safe in her company and wasn't ready to let go of that safety line and return home alone yet. It would be a business dinner, Aiden told herself. You could ask her about Renshaw's theory over dinner and determine whether the rapist might be a forgotten acquaintance of hers. "Dinner it is, then," she decided.

  * * *

  "It's not much," Aiden warned, shifting the pizza box into her left hand so that she could open the door to her apartment, "but I'm rarely at home, so it's enough for me." She had sensed that Dawn wouldn't feel at ease in a public place like a restaurant, and she didn't want to question Dawn about
her rapist in front of her mother, so she had decided on takeout in her own apartment.

  Hastily, she cleared a few files from the coffee table. "Have a seat, please. You want something to drink?" She looked into her almost empty refrigerator. "Orange juice, mineral water, beer... I think we should avoid the milk, though."

  "Orange juice, please."

  Aiden took the juice container and reached for a bottle of beer before stopping herself. Not a good idea. She said she smelled beer on the perp's breath. You don't want her to have a flashback, do you? And besides, this is business, remember, so no drinking.

  "How long have you lived here?" Dawn asked, taking the glass Aiden handed her.

  Uncomfortable with what she suspected to be the first of many more personal questions, Aiden busied herself with opening the pizza box. "A while."

  Dawn continued looking around the apartment. She pointed at the sculpture next to the couch and at the painting above it, admiring the rich shades of red. "Are you a fan of Robyn Carlisle? You're not related to her, are you?" she asked.

  Aiden suppressed a sigh. Keeping this at a strictly professional level seemed to be impossible. She gave a short nod. "She was my mother," she said, hoping to leave it at that.

  Dawn looked up from the slice of veggie pizza that Aiden had put on her place. She studied Aiden's face. "Are you uncomfortable with my being here?"

  She seemed to respect Aiden's unspoken wish not to talk about her mother, but instead she had openly addressed another issue. Why did I think dinner with a psychologist was a good idea? Aiden asked herself. She felt as if Dawn could look right through her and read her like a picture book – a feeling she didn't like. "It's not that."

  "But?" Dawn sensed the unspoken part of the sentence.

  "This is business." At least, it should be, she mentally added. "There are a few questions I have to ask you."

  "Okay," Dawn said cautiously. She pushed back her plate, obviously no longer hungry.

  A sharp stab of guilt shot through Aiden. You have to be professional, but do you also have to be an asshole? In her attempt to draw a clear line between her job and her private life, she had denied Dawn a rare opportunity to relax and not think about the rape. "I'm sorry." She rubbed her temples, feeling the onset of a headache. This was clearly a catch-22 situation.

  "Don't apologize for doing your job." Dawn sounded sincere, but there was an emotional distance between them that hurt.

  "I'm not." Aiden had been the one trying to stake out the boundaries of this acquaintance, and now she was the one who couldn't stand them. "It's just –"

  "Detective," Dawn interrupted softly, "if anyone can understand the need to separate the job from... friendships, it's a psychologist. In my profession, meeting a patient in a nontherapeutic context is a big no-no."

  "I'm not your therapist," Aiden protested.

  Dawn tilted her head in agreement. "No, you're not. You're a detective and a good one at that. I grew up surrounded by cops, so I know the requirements of the job. I apologize if I made it difficult for you."

  Aiden had a sudden urge to bang her head against the coffee table. She felt like an insensitive bastard trying to reduce a wonderful and complex woman to the role of a rape victim. She couldn't find the words to make Dawn – or herself – feel better. If she tried to speak the comforting words of a friend, this whole conversation would be in vain. Damn, what a mess.

  "Hey." For a second, Dawn's hand covered her own. "What was it you wanted to ask me?"

  Aiden put the rest of her pizza back into its box. She couldn't help admiring the woman across from her. I should be the one to make her feel better, not the other way around. "My colleagues and I are working with Dr. Albert Renshaw, a forensic psychiatrist," she said, trying hard to hold on to her professional role. "He thinks your attacker might be someone you know, a passing acquaintance or something."

  "Because of the way he wrecked my apartment?" Dawn immediately understood her colleague's reasoning.

  "Yes. Dr. Renshaw thinks it might be something personal he held against you. Are you sure you don't know him?"

  Dawn tugged at her lower lip with her teeth. "I had the feeling he knew me better than the other way around – or at least he thinks he does. If I have seen him before, I'm sure it was as nothing more than a stranger on the street, a cabbie who drove me home once, or a cashier who wrapped up my tomatoes or bananas for me."

  "Banana," Aiden mumbled before she could stop herself.

  There was sadness in Dawn's smile as if their conversation in the grocery store around the corner had happened in another life, to another person.

  And perhaps it had. No rape victim would ever be the same person again, and at the moment Aiden felt as if she wouldn't either. She sighed. "Come on, I'll drive you home," she suggested, suddenly not knowing what else to say to Dawn anymore.

  Dawn stood without hesitation and followed Aiden to the door.

  CHAPTER 8

  RAY GLANCED AWAY from the heavy traffic for a moment, looking at Aiden in the passenger seat of the unmarked car. Something was going on with his partner. Aiden had been silent for the whole drive uptown. Not that she was a regular chatterbox otherwise, but she seemed to be downright moody today. He was sure that every single sex crimes detective had heaved a sigh of relief when they had left the station to visit Dawn Kinsley's office.

  Determined to find out what troubled his partner, Ray tried to bring her out of her shell with their usual teasing. "You're really slipping in your old age, partner."

  "I forgot, okay?" Aiden snapped and then stopped and rubbed her neck.

  Ray didn't believe it for a second. It was not like Aiden to forget asking a witness a question that could be essential to solving the case. Ray lifted both hands in a calming gesture before gripping the steering wheel again. "Hey, don't take my head off! It's no big deal. Since we can't find Dr. Kinsley for the moment, we'll just ask one of her partners if they remember any cases with similar rapes, all right?"

  Aiden didn't answer. She stared out the window.

  I wonder if there's a connection between her bad mood and her sudden "forgetfulness"? Ray knew Aiden had met with their victim last night, and she had asked Dawn Kinsley about some of Renshaw's questions – but then had supposedly forgotten to ask her if the perp could be the rapist of one of her patients. Ray would have simply attributed it to stress and frustration, but then Aiden had balked at calling Dawn for further questions. "Did something happen between you and Dawn?" he asked as casually as possible.

  Aiden's head jerked around. Her amber eyes flashed. "What are you getting at? There's nothing between Dawn and me!"

  Ah! Everything became clearer to Ray now. That's what's tying her cuffs into knots. I knew she liked that little shrink. He abstained from grinning. "I'm not implying that. I just thought... you seemed to have a really good rapport with her. What happened?"

  "The job, what else?" Aiden sighed. "She's a victim and the key witness in one of our cases, Ray."

  "And that means you can't interact with her?" Ray kept his tone neutral. He knew Aiden didn't need him to make her decisions, but she could use his help in trying to clear up her muddled feelings.

  Aiden shot him a sharp glance. "Not in anything other than a professional manner. It could hurt the case; you know that as well as I do."

  Who's she trying to convince – me or herself? Ray wondered. He could understand the need not to become too friendly with a victim, but he wasn't sure if that was really what was troubling his partner, or if it was Aiden's usual reluctance to let people get close to her. Finding herself becoming friends with a psychologist, a "head shrinker," had to have her running for cover.

  Or is it more than friendship? Ray eyed his partner. He had known for years that Aiden was gay or at least bisexual although he had never seen her with a woman. They had never talked about it. He knew and was sure she was aware of that; that was enough. The two of them had their own "don't ask, don't tell" policy, not because Ray was a h
omophobe or Aiden didn't trust her partner, but because it didn't matter between them. She was his partner, and that was all he needed to know to support her. Hell, it would cause more of a problem between us if she ogled Ruben's ass or one of the slimy defense lawyers. Trying to sneak a peek at Kade Matheson's long legs is something every cop in the precinct would understand, even old, married ones like me.

  "Pulling away from her like she has a contagious disease or bad breath could hurt the case, too," Ray said gently. In fact, seeing as we're hunting for information we should have had three days ago 'cause our victim is nowhere to be found, I think it already has, he silently added.

  "I know, I know." Aiden rubbed her eyes. "I'm sending her mixed messages, and it's confusing her. Hell, it confuses me."