The Investigators (Badge of Honor 7)

“What makes you think we’re going to do that again? Ever?”

“I told you we don’t have time for bullshit. Sit down,” he said, and then went on, “I said ‘sit,’ not ‘lay.’ ”

Not knowing why she decided to give in, Susan went to the bed and sat on the edge. Matt took her hand in his.

For a moment, thinking he was going to put her hand on him under the sheet, she debated jerking her hand free. But she sensed, somehow, that having her fondle him was not—at least for the moment—on his mind.

“You were a little surprised about this, right?” Matt asked seriously. “What’s happened to us?”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” she said.

“Well, me, too, fair maiden. This is the last thing I expected to happen, or wanted to happen.”

“That’s not the impression you gave me.”

“The cops are onto you, fair maiden.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged again, and again it infuriated her.

“Truth time,” Matt said, “For example, to clear the air: When you were not in your room in the Bellvue with the nonexistent boyfriend, you were off meeting a guy named Bryan Chenowith and/or one or more of his fellow fugitives.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “In other words, the jig is up. You are what is known in the criminal statutes, state and Federal, as an accessory after the fact. And actually, I want to be sure about the after the fact.”

“You son of a bitch! You went to my house! You had dinner with my parents. And all the time—”

“You left out ‘made love to me.’ Guilty on all counts. And I’m going to take great pleasure in seeing your pal and his friends hauled off to the slammer without possibility of parole for the rest of their natural lives. My problem is what to do about you.”

She looked at him with horror in her eyes, but didn’t speak.

“I don’t want you to go to the slam, fair maiden. That would distress me terribly.”

“Why should that bother you, Mr. Detective?” Susan flared, and started to get off the bed. She wondered if she was going to throw up.

He held her wrist, and he was too strong for her.

“I’m not through,” he said, not very pleasantly.

“What are you going to do now? Rape me before you arrest me?”

“Come on, Susan, you know better than that. Get it through your head that right now I’m the best friend you’ve got.”

“How often have you used that line? What do they call that, putting the suspect at ease?”

“That’s what they call it,” Matt agreed. “The difference is, this is the first time I’ve used the technique on an interviewee I think I’m in love with.”

Her heart jumped when he said that.

“In love?” she asked, witheringly sarcastic. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“Well, maybe what happened affected me more than it affected you, but that’s how I’m forced to look at it.”

“Oh, come on, Matt!”

“If I didn’t come to realize, when you were in the bathroom all that time, that what’s wrong with me is that I’m in love with you, then what would have happened was that we would have torn off another couple of pieces, had our dinner, and I would have taken you home and been not at all upset about the inevitability of you going off to the slam.”