"Oh...yes." She lied. "They don't know. We just have to hang around."

Cynthia had only taken her first taste of the hospital's bitter brew when a nurse and doctor hurried into the victim's room. She set the coffee on a nearby table, stood and peered through the door. The doctor bent over the woman's bed, his ear to her lips.

Cynthia turned to her partner. "Looks like she might be awake."

Mike stood and joined her in the doorway. They continued to watch, but weren't able to overhear anything. Within a few seconds, the doctor pa.s.sed by on his way out. Cynthia tugged on his sleeve. "Will we be able to ask her a few questions?"

His face void of expression, the white coat-clad physician shook his head. "Not right now. Let's make sure she's stable before we cause her anymore turmoil. I know it's important to talk to her, but I don't want to jeopardize her condition."

Cynthia nodded. "I understand, doctor. Just let us know when we can talk to her."

Cynthia rubbed the nape of her neck. "This hospital chair is like a rock. It's killing me."

Mike stood and shook one leg then the other. "My a.s.s is asleep. Think I'll go for a walk and call home. Mich.e.l.le will wonder what happened to me. Of course she'll love the overtime...means more shopping."

He sauntered down the hall, leaving Cynthia to enjoy the way his uniform fit his muscular b.u.t.tocks. Recalling her predicament, she glanced from side to side. The last thing she needed was someone noticing her l.u.s.tful looks at another man. She chuckled. How would Alex explain his sudden interest in Mike's b.u.t.t to all his buddies? She needed levity at the moment and welcomed a cheery thought for a change.

The nurse must have summoned the doctor back. His long, hurrying strides into the room indicated a sense of urgency. Cynthia stood and peered inside, fearing the young woman had taken a turn for the worse. She released a breath at seeing the staff's concerned looks blossom into smiles. The victim was awake, and the nurse elevated the head of her bed. The doctor completed a perfunctory exam, then turned and saw Cynthia. He motioned her in. Her stomach lurched.

Where was Mike? Cynthia's heart leapt at the thought of dealing with this on her own.

On shaky legs, she walked to the victim's bedside. The young woman's blonde hair formed a matted ma.s.s on her pillow, and the deep blue of her eyes almost matched the bruises on the side of her neck.

Cynthia took a deep, calming breath. "h.e.l.lo, my name is a...my name is Officer Carlyle. I'll try not to tire you, but I need to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up to it?"

The victim's throat, marked with the angry red rings of an attempted strangulation, wobbled with a swallow. She nodded.

Cynthia pulled a notepad from her breast pocket and put pen tip to paper. "Did you recognize the person who did this to you, Miss Austin?"

Cynthia gazed on Alex's shaking hand and took another breath.

"No." The victim answered in a barely audible whisper. Tears pooled in her eyes.

Cynthia patted her hand. "Just a couple more questions, then I'll let you rest. I'm a.s.suming your abductor was a man?"

"Yes," she croaked.

"Did he have any distinguishing marks or features that might help us identify him? What race?"

The woman's eyes widened. "White, I believe." She placed one hand on each side of her throat and grimaced.

"Don't talk if it hurts." Alex never would have made the suggestion, but Cynthia pitied the woman.

She smiled at Cynthia. "And, he had a tattoo," she muttered. "A large one on his arm."

"Can you describe it?" Cynthia urged.

The victim shook her head. "No, sorry... didn't see it clearly." She gulped down an obviously painful swallow. "I was fighting him as he ... he choked me. H-he covered my mouth." The terror of remembrance showed in her eyes, but she blinked back tears and edged higher up on her pillow. "When he clamped his hand over my mouth, I saw the tattoo on his upper arm ... left." The task proved too much. She coughed, covered her face and fell silent.

Cynthia again patted the woman's hand. "I'm sorry to make you relive the horrible nightmare. It must be very painful. You rest now, and don't worry. You're safe here."

When Cynthia turned, Mike stood in the doorway. "You heard?" she asked.

"Yes." His brow furrowed. "We have to catch the son of a b.i.t.c.h. He can't do this to anyone else. Did you ask her about the doll?"

"No, I didn't have a chance. We'll have to wait until she's up to it."

Mike rested his hand on the b.u.t.t of his gun. "If you don't mind, I'll go back to the station and add the information on the tattoo to the all-points bulletin. I*ll be back for you in a bit, that way you*ll be here if she*s able to talk again."

Cynthia frowned. "That's fine with me, I guess. I wish she could have described the tat for us this time, but at least we know it's big and on his left upper arm. Don*t be too long, I*m beat."

Chapter Eleven.

After picking up all the debris from the floor, Alex lifted the overflowing garbage bag and headed for the dumpster. As he'd recently learned, he no longer hoisted the sack over the shoulder; he had to grasp it like a lady and clutch it to his bosom. All Cynthia's rules made him want to scream. He should be with Mike, working on the case, not taking out garbage and suffering inside a woman's body.

He pushed aside his frustrations and opened the door. Hopefully, Cynthia wouldn't mind that he wore her slippers out of the apartment. In comparison to her other shoes...well, there was no comparison.

As he started down the stairs, he spied Thomas Carpenter coming in the front door. Alex quickly backed up two steps and hid in the stairwell. The last thing he needed in the midst of all his other dilemmas was more of Carpenter's c.r.a.p.

A can fell out of the trash bag and clattered down the stairs. Alex took a deep breath. s.h.i.t! With ears as big as Carpenter's he was bound to hear it. Much to Alex's chagrin, Thomas rounded the corner, holding the wayward tin in his hand.

As he ogled Alex from head to toe, appreciating Cynthia's ample curves far too much in Alex's opinion, a broad smile spanned his pock-marked face. "Well, Ms. Freitas. How lucky of me to run into you. I don't suppose I'd be fortunate enough to find you've broken up with your boyfriend?" His wink made Alex want to gag.

Alex walked down to the landing and took the can from him. "h.e.l.lo, Thomas." His annoyance punctuated his greeting. "Thanks for picking up my refuse, and no, I'm still with my boyfriend. Sorry."

Thomas caressed Alex's arm. "Well, that doesn't mean that we can't be friends."

The hairs on the back of Alex's neck bristled and he yanked his arm away. His first inclination was the punch the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, but that didn't quite seem ladylike. Couldn't the a.s.shole get a clue? "You'll have to excuse me." Alex maintained decorum that would make Cynthia proud. "I have to get this out to the dumpster. I have a...a...a cake in the oven."

A look of disappointment crossed Thomas' face. "Well, maybe another time, then."

"Sure, sure." When h.e.l.l freezes over. Alex brushed by him and out into the alley. The man gave new meaning to the word 'letch'.

Alex's was huffing when he walked back into Cynthia's apartment. One flight of stairs left him breathless. Who was out of shape? Him or her?

The phone rang.

"Alex, I just thought you would like to know we finally got to talk to the victim." Cyn sounded excited.

He attempted to slow his breathing with a loud exhalation. "What did she say? Any new leads?"

"Have you been running?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just jogged around the block in your slippers. So, tell me..."

"Stop being such a smarty pants, and I will."

"Sorry." He should know better than to throw sarcasm back at her. She gave better than she got.

She cleared her throat. "Her information is pretty sketchy...nothing definite. She didn't see his face because he was behind her, but when he clamped his hand over her mouth, she did manage to see a large tattoo on his left arm."

"What kind?"

"She couldn't recall. She just said it was large and covered most of the upper part. She didn't see it until during the struggle when she pushed up his sleeve."

Alex held the phone in one hand and stroked his chin with the other. He noted the absent stubble he never thought he'd miss. d.a.m.n, instead of running around in fuzzy slippers and fending off s.e.xual advances, he needed to be the one working on this case.

"Are you still there?" she asked.

"Yes, just thinking. Hang around there a little longer. Maybe she'll remember something more."

"Okay, but only for another hour or so. Mike's gone back to station and as soon as he comes back for me, I'm coming home. It's been a very long day."

"No doubt, and these types of cases can be draining emotionally. I'll see you soon."

Annoyed, he plopped on the sofa and hung his head in his hands. "d.a.m.n! How in the h.e.l.l can I expect her to handle something when she isn't experienced enough? I don't even know how to coach her." He raised his head and eyed the door. "s.h.i.t, I need a beer."

Instead of succ.u.mbing to his cravings, he turned on the TV, leaned back and put his feet on the coffee table. While he flipped channels, his mind wandered back to the case. A tattoo wasn't much to go on. Millions of men had them. At once, the proverbial light bulb clicked on above his head. He slammed his feet to the floor and sat upright. "Tattoo!"

Cynthia turned her key but the door still wouldn't open. She took a step backwards and made sure of the apartment number, then heaved a sigh. Alex must have fixed the deadbolt. She tried her key again, but still no luck.

She rapped on the door. Receiving no response, she balled her fist and pounded. Far too tired, all she wanted to do was sit down and relax.

The strange sensation of being watched crept over her. She glanced up and down the hallway, but saw no one. This whole body switch had her paranoid for so many reasons.

Alex opened the door, zipping her favorite pair of slacks. Before she could reprimand him, he quickly disappeared into the bedroom.

She a.s.sessed the condition of her apartment. Her immediate response was disgust and appall. He'd left an a.s.sortment of debris strewn about the counter and coffee table. The man was a slob no matter which body he was in. She straightened the scattered newspapers and picked up dirty dishes.

The toilet flushed in the other room and the kitchen pipes creaked in response.

She grimaced. He'd probably left another mess in the bathroom.

Alex re-entered the room with a crooked grin on his face. "Whew! You caught me on the pot. Almost forgot to flush."

She screwed her mouth to the side to keep from exploding. He had no cla.s.s at all. G.o.d, what if he acted this way at her office? No doubt it was already a pig sty. She released a pent up breath. "Never mind that," she snapped. "What are you doing in my good pants? Those are not to wear around the house, especially when you're a slob." She held up a dirty plate and nodded to an empty soda can.

"I was gonna clean that up before you came home, but you beat me to it." He displayed a sheepish grin.

"The pants?"

He glanced down. "How am I supposed to know what to pick out of your closet? Pants are pants to me. I needed to put something on to empty the trash."

"You wore my good pants to empty the trash? Well, just take them off and put on something else. I have plenty of jeans in there. Geez, Alex, am I going to have to lay out my clothes for you every day?"

His anger turned her lip line almost invisible. "Look, lady, and I use the term loosely, I'm the one who's supposed to have PMS since I'm using your body and hormones right now, but you're doing a pretty good impression. For G.o.d's sake, they're only a pair of pants. Chill out!"

Cynthia sighed, and crossing to the trash can, stuffed the used newspaper inside. She sagged onto the couch and splayed thick fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry. This is just too much for me to handle. Seeing that woman half dead and having to make her re-live her horrible ordeal is hard on me. I can imagine what it must do to her."

Alex sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "I know."

She gazed down at him. "This is so weird. I hear my own voice, see my own face staring at me, and feel like I want to cry, but can't. I don't think I can do this much longer, Alex."

He stifled a chuckle. "Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but you have to admit this ordeal is funny in some ways. A short time ago I looked forward to getting into your pants, and now that I did, your only fear is that I'll spill something on 'em."

She pushed him away. "Oh...you...you may look like a woman, but you still think like a man."

"And manly speaking, I sure could use a beer. Do you think the neighbors have seen you come in here often enough that they wouldn't think it scandalous if I went and fetched a few from my fridge?"

"Beer? Is that all you can think about right now?"

"No, trust me I think about other things, but I focus better after a beer or two."

"You have no idea how it pains me to hear those words coming from my own lips. Do you have any idea how many calories are in each can or bottle? I suppose I should be thankful you've retained some of your gentlemanly ways."

"Gentleman, huh?" he chuffed. "You're probably safer now than you've ever been. Even if I wanted to take advantage of you, I don't have the necessary equipment." He pulled her close and gazed up at her. "I'm sure this is a strange picture. I'm used to being the taller, thicker one."

Resting her head atop his, she laughed at the reality of his comment and at their entire situation. It was either find the humor or collapse into tears, and she doubted she could muster up the energy to cry.

Alex leaned away just as she started to relax. "Tell me again about that tattoo."

Her brow furrowed. "Well, that's a switch. How did we get from the topic of us back to a tattoo?"

"I just thought of something that might be important."

She raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You mentioned that the victim said her a.s.sailant had a large tattoo on his upper left arm. Coincidentally, the super was here today to fix your lock, and he has one on that same arm...."

"You don't suppose...."

"Thousands of men have tattoos, but it seems strange you called and told me about one right after he'd been here." He shook his head and sighed. "Don't mind me; the coincidence probably doesn't mean anything. I'm suspicious by nature, and if you have to work this job very long it'll become commonplace for you, too."

"I don't need anything else to worry about, thank you! I'm still wondering how we're going to get out of this crazy predicament. Have you given it any more thought?"

"How could I not? I don't like sitting to pee, I don't like having cramps, and I sure don't like being flirted with by that creep, Thomas Carpenter. A fix is pretty much all I think about and I'm still as clueless as ever when it comes to a solution."

"What if we have to stay this way forever?" Tears welled in her eyes.