“Reminded her that if she went home without having that gash seen to, he’d be pissed, treat it himself. And pour a pain blocker into her. She hates that.”

“So, he handles her.”

“They handle each other. It works for them.”

“I noticed. Will you give me a minute with her?”

“It’s not up to me.” But Peabody walked away to oversee the transportation of the suspects.

Webster strode over to the medi-van, crouched down, and studied the gash being treated. “Not so bad, but those pants will never be the same.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“Got grit in it,” the MT stated.

“Got grit in it,” she mimicked and scowled at him as he closed the cut. “I hate you guys.”

“Oh, we know. My partner paid me twenty so I’d treat you instead of him.” He finished the job while she sat and stewed, then stepped back. “There now. Want a lollitape?”

Because her lips quivered she didn’t risk cursing him but simply got to her feet. “Easiest twenty you ever made, pal.”

She walked away, still limping a little, and Webster fell into step beside her. “Now that we’ve had our little party, can I have a minute?”

“I’ve got a follow-up to do, then I’ve got to go in and hammer these guys, write a report . . .” She sighed. “What do you want?”

“To apologize.”

“Okay. Accepted.” But before she could walk away he took her arm. “Webster.”

“Just a minute.” Cautiously, he removed his hand, put both in his pockets. “I was way over the line last night, and I’m sorry for it. I put you in a bad spot. I was pissed, at myself a lot more than you, but it gave me an excuse to . . . Okay truth, goddamn it. I never got over you.”

He could probably have given her a quick roundhouse kick in the face and shocked her less. “What? What was to get over?”

“Well, ouch. That should have my ego limping for the next couple of weeks. Let’s just say I got hung up. It’s not like I thought about you every waking minute for the past few years, but there were moments. And when that shit came down on you last winter and we had a few face-to-faces, it got stirred up again. It’s my problem, not yours.”

She considered, strained for something, but her mind stayed blank. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Nothing. I just wanted to clear it up, get it out of my gut. Roarke has every right to kick my teeth in.” Experimentally, Webster ran his tongue around them now. “Which he damn near did. Anyway.” He tried a shrug. “I’d like to set that aside if it’s just the same to you.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. I’ve got to—”

“One more thing while I’m clearing my conscience. I was following orders when I came to you on Kohli. I didn’t like doing it. I know you had a meet at The Tower, with Bayliss.”

“Your captain’s an asshole.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” He sucked in a breath. “Look, I went into IAB because I wanted to do good work, because I believed in keeping a clean house. I’m not going to give you a song and dance on abuse of power, but—”

“Good, because I could sing a hell of a tune about your captain.”

“I know it. I didn’t come to you last night just because I was hung up on you. This operation, the direction it’s taken, has stuck in my craw. Bayliss says look at the big picture, but if you don’t see the details, what the hell’s the point?”

He looked back as the medi-vans and their police escort headed out. “I’m adding up the details, Dallas, and they’re making a whole new pattern. You’re going after a cop killer, and it’s going to swing you right into Ricker’s face.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Okay, I will.” He looked back at her. “I want in.”

“Forget it.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net