The Right Woman.

Linda Warren.

Acknowledgments.

I'd like to acknowledge the following people for sharing their expert knowledge so graciously: Kristen Tubbs, LPC-I, Laurie SoRell, M.A., and Laurie and Lee Fay for answering my endless questions about Dallas.

CHAPTER ONE.

NOT AGAIN.

Sarah Welch rushed through the emergency room doors, her heart slamming against her ribs so hard that she had to stop to catch her breath.

Another rape.

As a licensed professional counselor in private practice with Dr. Karen Mason, psychologist, she should be used to this. It was her job to provide the hospital with a.s.sistance for the victims of violent crimes. But some things were impossible to get used to.

It would have to happen while Karen was away, Sarah thought as she tried to locate a nurse. There was no one at the desk so she hurried down the hall. She loved her work, but at times she felt so inadequate, especially when she came face-to-face with the person-the victim. In truth, though, this was her specialty. She'd once been a victim and knew the crippling fear that overtook the body, mind and soul.

"May I help you?"

Sarah turned toward the voice. "Yes. I'm Sarah Welch with Dr. Mason's office. Dr. Daley called about a rape victim."

"Oh, yes." The nurse shifted the charts in her arms. "The doctor is waiting for you. Come this way."

The nurse opened a door and Sarah followed her into the sectioned-off emergency area. She stiffened when out of the corner of her eye she noticed Daniel Garrett and a couple of police officers standing to one side. She didn't spare them a glance.

What is Daniel doing here?

Every time she saw him something in her unwillingly froze. He was a reminder of the past-a past she wanted to forget. She quickly wiped him from her mind as she walked up to Dr. Daley.

"Hi, Sarah," Jim Daley said, scribbling in a chart. "Karen out of town?"

"Yes. She'll be back on Monday."

"That's too late." Dr. Daley gave her the chart. "I need someone to talk to this girl now. She's been severely traumatized. Physically she'll be fine, but I'm concerned about her mental state. She's not responding to anyone and she refuses to see her parents."

"How is she otherwise?"

"The rapist almost killed her and would have if someone hadn't interrupted him. He banged her up pretty bad. Her neck is black and blue from attempted strangulation and her voice is hoa.r.s.e from the injury." He took a breath. "Her name is Brooke Wallace and she's eighteen."

"Oh, no." There it was. That familiar chill running up her spine.

"The rape kit has been done and the police are waiting," Dr. Daley added, glancing toward the policemen. "This is the third rape in two months in the same area. Brooke is the first victim to survive. The other two girls died at the scene so the police are eager to talk to this one."

"I see," Sarah murmured, trying to control an attack of nerves.

That still didn't explain what Daniel was doing here. He worked narcotics. What did he have to do with this case?

Opening the chart, she began to read. Now she understood why Daniel had been called in. The rapist had given the girl an injection of heroin, a fact not mentioned in news coverage of the other rapes, and Daniel was an expert on drugs and drug dealers in Dallas. He knew every small-time pusher and the big drug lords like...

"We have her in one of the rooms." Jim's voice penetrated her thoughts. "Earlier she was thrashing around, almost violent. We're not sure how much heroin he gave her-waiting on the toxicology report-so I was hesitant about giving her anything. We're flushing out her system and she's calmer now, lying in a fetal position, unresponsive. Just see if you can get her to talk to you."

"I'll try."

"Her parents are in the waiting room, frantic, but when I mentioned they were here, she became even more hysterical. Try to get her to see them."

Sarah nodded and walked into the small room. The girl was just as Jim had said, curled into herself and staring off into s.p.a.ce. An IV was in her arm. Memories dark and deep stirred, a reminder of a time when she, too, needed to shut out the world and everyone in it. Still, there were sleepless nights and days that tortured her...

She pushed away those debilitating emotions and moved to the side of the bed.

DANIEL WATCHED SARAH until she disappeared into the room. She wore a dark business suit with a blouse b.u.t.toned to the top, her red hair coiled neatly at her nape. Every time he'd seen her in the past five years, she'd looked the same-nunlike. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't disguise her beauty; copper-red hair, porcelain skin, gorgeous blue eyes and a body that women envied and men fantasized about.

He shifted uncomfortably. Thoughts of Sarah Welch filled a lot of his sleepless nights. He never quite understood why-but then again, he did. It was good old-fashioned guilt and it gnawed away at him, especially when she ignored him as she had a few minutes ago.

She disliked him intensely, that was all too obvious. She held him responsible for her fiance's death. Greg Larson, a member of his narcotics squad, had been killed while doing undercover work. Sarah had witnessed the murder and been kidnapped by the drug lord, Rudy Boyd, and forced to strip in one of his clubs. After being rescued, it had taken her a while to recover from the traumatic events.

The sad part was that Sarah should never have been put in that situation. Greg had broken the rules by exposing Sarah to danger, and that's what bothered Daniel. He had failed in his role as leader. He had failed Greg and Sarah by not making Greg understand how dangerous the mission was and how breaking the rules, no matter how tempting, was out of the question. That was a burden he was never going to lose. The guilt of losing one of his own because he hadn't known Greg's secret activities-that he was in love and foolish enough to involve his girlfriend in his job.

"G.o.ddammit, can you believe this?" Homicide Detective Russ Devers interrupted his reverie.

Daniel straightened from leaning against the wall. "What are you talking about?"

"Sarah Welch went into the girl's room."

"I know. I saw her."

"Any chance of us getting to question the girl tonight just got blown to h.e.l.l."

"Don't be so d.a.m.n eager, Russ," Daniel said. "The girl's been through a horrendous ordeal and she needs some private time with someone that understands."

Russ's eyes darkened. "Whose side are you on?"

"Justice," Daniel told him. "I'm always on the side of justice."

"Yeah, fat chance of that happening with the victim's number one advocate on the case."

"Sarah's been there, Russ. She's knows what it's like to be a victim, to be abused, so cut her some slack."

Russ started to pace. "Why the h.e.l.l can't Ms. Welch understand that the faster we catch this creep, the less victims there'll be? The first few hours after the attack are crucial. The memory is still fresh in her mind and she could give us important information. We have two girls dead and not one d.a.m.n clue as to who's doing this. We need something, Daniel, and we need it fast."

"I'm aware of that. That's why I'm here in the middle of the night."

Russ stopped pacing to stare at Daniel. "The needle in the girl's arm throws me. You can't think of any MO that matches?"

Daniel shook his head. "The rapist gives the girl a dose of heroin and leaves the needle in her arm. We've never had anything like that before. Rudy Boyd was the big heroin dealer in Dallas and now he's on death row. My team is investigating the other known heroin dealers and I've checked out the small-time hoods that followed Boyd, but they're all clean." Daniel shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. "We just have to wait. We'll get to talk to the girl."

"Yeah, even Ms. Colder Than Ice can't stall us forever."

Daniel grimaced at the nickname the cops had given Sarah. It was well known that Sarah Welch fought fiercely for a victim's protection from further trauma. This kept the police from getting vital information when they needed it, but somehow Daniel couldn't fault her motives. He understood her reasons and he understood her. Oh, G.o.d, he had to stop thinking about Sarah Welch.

SARAH PULLED A CHAIR UP to the bed and sat facing Brooke. She was blond, blue-eyed and pretty. And so very young.

Go by the book. Go by all the techniques you've learned on how to handle victims like this. Sarah kept repeating the words, but she recognized this was not a textbook case. This girl needed someone who could empathize. Sarah had been there and now she'd have to share a part of herself that she hadn't shared with anyone except her twin sister, Serena. That was the only way to help Brooke Wallace.

"Hi, Brooke," she said. "I'm Sarah Welch, a counselor."

No response. Not even a blink.

"I know you don't want to talk, but I'm here if you want to."

Nothing.

Suddenly, Brooke's bottom lip trembled and tears rolled from her eyes. Sarah waited, trying not to stare at the bruises on Brooke's body. Her neck was purple and blue and the skin had been broken in several places from blunt pressure. There were dark spots on her face and arms, too. Sarah realized how lucky Brooke was to be alive, but she was very aware the girl wasn't ready to hear that.

"I wish I had some magic words to make you feel better. All I can say with certainty is that the pain will lessen as each day pa.s.ses."

Still no response.

"You might wonder how I can say that." She swallowed, dredging up the courage to keep talking, to keep pushing, gently. "I don't share this with many people, but I was once abused by a man and I know what you're feeling right now. You want to die. You wish you were dead. You even pray that you will die. Death is preferable to what you're feeling."

Brooke's eyes focused on Sarah. "You were raped?" Her voice was raspy.

This is what Sarah wanted-a response. Now she had to follow through. "I was kidnapped by a drug dealer who murdered my fiance in front of me. He didn't rape me physically, but he raped my mind and my soul." Her breath was trapped in her chest and she had to take a moment. "He...he forced me to strip in one of his clubs and he made me strip in front of him and he...he touched me in ways a woman fears, dreads-against her will."

"Did you feel dirty?"

"Yes."

"I do, too. I want to take a bath to wash his smell from my body, to wash everything away. But it will still be there, won't it?"

"Only if you let it."

"How do I stop it?"

"By letting people, your family, help you."

"No." She shook her head. "I can't see my parents."

"Why?"

"Because this is my fault. They said I couldn't go to the party, so I lied and said I was spending the night at my friend's house, then my friend and I went to the party."

"Right now your parents are more worried than angry with you. They need to see that you're okay." Sarah didn't know Brooke's parents. She was going on how most parents would react.

Brooke didn't say anything, just plucked at the sheet with her fingers.

"This is how you start to get better-by facing life again. Your parents love you, don't shut them out."

"Mom said I could always talk to her about anything, but I don't think I can talk about...about..."

"You don't have to," Sarah a.s.sured her. "They only need to see you."

Dr. Daley stuck his head in the door and motioned Sarah outside. Sarah stood. "I'll be right back."

An anxious expression came over Brooke's face. "You won't leave, will you?"

"No. I'm just going to speak with the doctor."

Brooke was responding, asking questions. That was good, very good.

Sarah met Jim outside the door. "The police are getting antsy and want to question Brooke. I told the detective it's up to you, so you might want to speak with them."

"Fine," Sarah replied and walked to where Daniel, another detective and Russ Devers stood. She'd dealt with Russ before. He was a macho, take-no-prisoners type of cop who never quite understood how his brusqueness affected a traumatized person. She didn't like him. The other man, she didn't know. Daniel, she knew-too well.

"When can we see her?" Russ asked point-blank before she even reached them.

"I'm not sure. I-"

"Listen, Ms. Welch," Russ interrupted in a scathing tone. "This girl is the only person alive who can tell us anything about the rapist. That sicko is on the loose and we need information and we need it now. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I understand you, Detective Devers, but if you go barging in there and bombard her with questions, she'll shut down completely and you won't get a thing. She won't talk to her parents and she's barely talking to me. I need more time."

"G.o.ddammit." Russ swung away in anger.

"Calm down, Russ." Daniel looked at Sarah.

She felt her insides tighten. She'd seen that compa.s.sionate gaze before and she didn't need Daniel's concern, nor did she want it.

"Sarah, it's crucial that we speak with her," Daniel said. "Two girls are dead and she's the only link the detectives have to the rapist. We need your help here."

Sarah knew how the cops felt about her and it didn't bother her. What bothered her was their disregard of the victim's feelings. What they didn't realize was that she wanted the creep off the streets as much as they did. They just disagreed on how to go about doing it. In this case, though, she was aware that time was of the essence.

"I'll see what I can do." With that, she went back to Brooke.

BROOKE WAS IN THE SAME POSITION, but this time she turned when Sarah entered. Before Sarah could say a word, Brooke said, "They want me to talk, don't they?"