Final Justice (Badge of Honor 8)

But finally everybody was loaded into the vehicles, and they left. Terry took Matt’s hand again and then leaned against him, suggesting an arm around her shoulders would not be unwelcome. They walked through the parking lot toward the Porsche.

The only problem now seemed where to go:

My apartment’s a dump to begin with, and a mess after that quick shower and jump into the dinner jacket. And there’s probably something, hair, lipstick on a towel, whatever, that’ll give away that Olivia-screw her! — has been there.

Terry’s staying at the Ritz-Carlton, but if we go there, she may not want them to know I went to her room, and it will be a brief kiss and I had a lovely time.

Can I suggest another hotel?

Screw it. The apartment it is.

He opened the door to the Porsche for her, then got in and started the engine. He saw that the parking slot in front of him was empty.

If there’s not a concrete block in the way, I can just drive through.

There was not and he did.

He turned left-the only entrance/exit was where he came in, and he would have to drive to the end of the line, and then out that way-and flicked the headlights onto high.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked aloud, and then he accelerated rapidly and braked as quickly.

“Oh, my God!” Terry said. She had seen what he had.

There was a man propped up against the rear of one of the parked cars, his legs sprawled in front of him. A woman was kneeling beside him, wiping at his face. He was bleeding from the mouth.

Matt jumped out of the car.

“What happened?”

“What does it look like?” the woman snapped. “We were mugged.”

“I gave him my wallet, why did they have to do this?” the man asked, and spit. What looked like part of a tooth came out of his mouth.

“Have you got a cell phone?” the woman demanded. “We need an ambulance.”

Matt reached for his cell phone.

“My God, they’re coming back!” the man said.

Matt saw where he was looking.

At the extreme end of the parking lot, there were two young men in dark clothes.

“You’re sure that’s them?” Matt asked.

“That’s them, that’s them, that’s them,” the woman said.

“Stop right there,” Matt called, l

oudly. “I’m a police officer.”

The two started running.

One of them had what could be a sawed-off shotgun, or a softball bat.

“Where the hell were you when we needed you?” the woman asked.

Matt ran back to the Porsche and got in. He tossed his cellular into Terry’s lap.