Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)
Page 86
“Yes.”
“The night too?”
Chay’s jaw tightened, but he’d been trained in interrogation techniques. Not this kind, no, but the same principles applied.
“Yes.”
“So you were, ah, intimate?”
To hell with the principles of interrogation.
“That has nothing to do with the situation,” Chay said coldly.
The younger cop glanced at the older one. The older one shrugged.
“That’s a condom in that drawer, Mister. If you spent the night—”
“It’s lieutenant,” Chay said, even more coldly. “And before you ask, I’m not in the habit of leaving calling cards.”
Both officers nodded. “And your former boyfriend?” the older one said.
“She told you,” Chay snapped. “There is no former boyfriend.”
“Maybe the lady would prefer to answer questions with you out of the room, Mis—Lieutenant.”
“No,” Bianca said quickly. “Chayton. Don’t leave me.”
Chay looked at the cops. “Are you done?” They nodded and Chay brought Bianca’s hand to his lips. “Just let me see the officers out, honey. I promise, I’ll be right back.”
He strode through the kitchen, through the tiny hallway and to the door. The policemen hurried after him.
“The thing is,” the older one said, “there’s not a lot we can do.”
Chay nodded. “I understand.”
“If the lady says there haven’t been any other guys here—”
“If she says it,” Chay said flatly, “it’s because it’s true.”
“Yeah. I didn’t mean…” The officer heaved a sigh. “No sign of a break-in. No other men in her life. I mean, you know, we can file a report. Hand this to the detectives, they’d maybe come by, check things out, but…There’s not really anything to go on, you know what I mean?”
Chay knew exactly what the cop meant. In a city with more than its share of killers, thieves and gangbangers, a condom lying in a drawer, filled with what appeared to be semen, wasn’t going to be high on anyone’s priority list.
“What about a DNA test?”
“Sure.” The younger cop shrugged. “Problem is, we’ve got hundreds of DNA samples waiting to be tested. Rapes, murders…”
Chay got the message. Compared to rapes and murders, this would almost be a joke.
“I understand,” he said as he shook hands with each man. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
Both cops nodded. “You might want to see to it the lady changes the lock on this door.”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”
The policemen left. Chay closed the door and turned the lock.
What now? His head was spinning. If this were Santa Barbara, if he were at Camp Condor, there were things, effective things, he could do. He could get a DNA test run—he had contacts he could turn to and the units had access to the most up-to-date resources.