The Murderers (Badge of Honor 6)

“I’ve got something to give you…”

“No, thank you.”

“…a mild sedative.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not climbing the walls, or hysterical, or…”

“It’s inside, Matt, it’s a pain. It will have to come out. The better shape you’re in when it does, the better. That’s why you need to sleep.”

“You are your father’s daughter, aren’t you? You never know when to take no for an answer.”

“OK. But people, even tough guys like you, have been known to change their minds. I’ll leave the pills.”

“Take two and call me in the morning?” Matt asked, now smiling.

“If you take two, you won’t be able to use a telephone in the morning. One, Matt, with water, preferably not on an empty stomach.”

“My stomach is full of Chinese.”

“I’ll be at home until half past seven or so,” Amy said. “If you want to talk.”

“Amy, believe it or not, I’m touched by your concern,” Matt said. “But all I need is to finish this”—he held up his whiskey glass—“and get in bed.”

And then he surprised her by putting his arms around her.

“Who holds your hand when you need it, Doc?” he asked softly. “Don’t you ever get it up to here with other people’s problems?”

“Yeah,” she said, surprised at her emotional reaction. “Just between thee, me, and the lamp pole, I do. But not with your problems, Matt. You’re my little brother.”

“Chronologically speaking only, of course.”

She hugged him, and then broke away.

“Go to bed,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She went down the narrow flight of stairs and turned at the bottom and looked up.

“Try to stay on the black stuff between parked cars, Amy,” Matt called down to her with a wave.

“Wiseass,” she called back, and closed the door to the stairs. She had just enough time to be surprised to find the landing empty when she heard the whine of the elevator.

That has to be Peter, she thought. If he said he would wait for me, he will.

And then she just had time to recognize the depth of her original disappointment when the elevator door opened. It was not Peter, it was Jason Washington.

Where the hell is Peter? Did he decide, “Screw her, I’m going home”?

“Good evening, Doctor,” Washington said in his sonorous voice. “Or, more accurately, good morning.”

“Mr. Washington.”

“Do I correctly surmise from the look of disapproval on your face that now is not a good time to call on Matt?”

“No. As a matter of fact,” Amy said with a nervous laugh—Jason Washington was a formidable male—“I think you’d be good for him. He said he was going to bed, but I don’t believe him.”

“I couldn’t get here earlier,” he said. “Inspector Wohl—he’s with the security officer in the lobby—thought perhaps you…”

Peter did wait. Why are you so damned pleased?