Read Online In Bed With the Badge by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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a mess as they want while looking for things that make their risk-taking worthwhile.”
She nodded, knowing that in this case, she was thenovice and he the experienced one. That meant she would have to follow his lead and, most likely, take orders from him—at least for the time being.
“How do you want to do this?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at the question. “Solving the case comes to mind.”
“I mean, do you want to take the husband or the wife?”
Amused, knowing what she was after, he decided to yank her chain just a little. “They’re being given away?”
“To question.” She enunciated each syllable clearly, holding her exasperation in check.
“Why don’t we make it a joint effort?” he suggested, his tone marginally patronizing. “That way, they won’t feel as if they were being interrogated.”
“I had no intentions of conducting an interrogation,” she informed him. “I just thought we could compare stories after we finished, see if there’re any inconsistencies. If we keep them together, they could keep each other in check.”
He studied her for a long moment. What was going on in her head? he wondered. Despite his baiting her, he was aware that she was sharp. Had something occurred to her that he’d missed?
“You’re assuming they have something to hide?” he asked.
“Not exactly, but maybe the wife wanted to get away from the husband and this so-called robbery could be a way of funding her escape. Or maybe she found out he was having an affair and she wanted to get even with him by scaring him. Then again, he might have wanted—what?” she finally asked, unable to handle the way Wyatt looked at her any longer. She got the feeling that she provided him with his morning’s entertainment.
“Homicide has certainly left its mark on you, hasn’t it?”
“Being a good cop has left its mark on me,” she informed him. “No stone unturned,” she elaborated.
He rolled her suggestion over in his head. “Okay, have it your way. I’ll take the husband, you take the wife—unless you’d rather have it the other way around. You get the guy and I take the woman.”
“No, the first way’s fine,” she said. “Mrs. Wilson will probably feel better talking to a woman about what happened than someone who looks like he’d just finished a photo shoot for GQ .”
“I could rub a little dirt on my sleeve if you think that’ll make me look more capable.”
“Now who’s being sarcastic?” she asked.
He held up his hand. “That would be me. C’mon, we’ll get this over with and let these people rest.”
“You really think they can sleep after what happened?” she asked.
This morning’s events had really shaken him up, Sam thought, annoyed with himself. He wasn’t thinking clearly. “I guess not,” he grudgingly admitted.
Directed by another officer on the scene, they walked into the living room where they found the couple, still in their nightclothes and frightened, like two people who had been through a nightmare. They sat on an expensive-looking, oversized yellow leather sofa, apparently unwilling or unable to move. Trapped in their ownworld, they seemed oblivious to all the crime scene investigators and police personnel moving about the area.
At least there was no need for a medical examiner, Riley thought with relief.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” Wyatt addressed the tense couple respectfully. Two sets of frightened brown eyes turned toward him. “I’m Detective Wyatt and this is my partner, Detective McIntyre. We’ll be taking your statements.”
“We already gave statements,” Mr. Wilson protested, a mixture of weariness and indignation in his voice.
“We know,” Riley told them sympathetically, moving in front of Wyatt. Her eyes were on the husband the entire time. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to know he felt emasculated by what had happened. “You’re tired and angry and you just want to forget the whole thing ever happened. But it would
She nodded, knowing that in this case, she was thenovice and he the experienced one. That meant she would have to follow his lead and, most likely, take orders from him—at least for the time being.
“How do you want to do this?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow at the question. “Solving the case comes to mind.”
“I mean, do you want to take the husband or the wife?”
Amused, knowing what she was after, he decided to yank her chain just a little. “They’re being given away?”
“To question.” She enunciated each syllable clearly, holding her exasperation in check.
“Why don’t we make it a joint effort?” he suggested, his tone marginally patronizing. “That way, they won’t feel as if they were being interrogated.”
“I had no intentions of conducting an interrogation,” she informed him. “I just thought we could compare stories after we finished, see if there’re any inconsistencies. If we keep them together, they could keep each other in check.”
He studied her for a long moment. What was going on in her head? he wondered. Despite his baiting her, he was aware that she was sharp. Had something occurred to her that he’d missed?
“You’re assuming they have something to hide?” he asked.
“Not exactly, but maybe the wife wanted to get away from the husband and this so-called robbery could be a way of funding her escape. Or maybe she found out he was having an affair and she wanted to get even with him by scaring him. Then again, he might have wanted—what?” she finally asked, unable to handle the way Wyatt looked at her any longer. She got the feeling that she provided him with his morning’s entertainment.
“Homicide has certainly left its mark on you, hasn’t it?”
“Being a good cop has left its mark on me,” she informed him. “No stone unturned,” she elaborated.
He rolled her suggestion over in his head. “Okay, have it your way. I’ll take the husband, you take the wife—unless you’d rather have it the other way around. You get the guy and I take the woman.”
“No, the first way’s fine,” she said. “Mrs. Wilson will probably feel better talking to a woman about what happened than someone who looks like he’d just finished a photo shoot for GQ .”
“I could rub a little dirt on my sleeve if you think that’ll make me look more capable.”
“Now who’s being sarcastic?” she asked.
He held up his hand. “That would be me. C’mon, we’ll get this over with and let these people rest.”
“You really think they can sleep after what happened?” she asked.
This morning’s events had really shaken him up, Sam thought, annoyed with himself. He wasn’t thinking clearly. “I guess not,” he grudgingly admitted.
Directed by another officer on the scene, they walked into the living room where they found the couple, still in their nightclothes and frightened, like two people who had been through a nightmare. They sat on an expensive-looking, oversized yellow leather sofa, apparently unwilling or unable to move. Trapped in their ownworld, they seemed oblivious to all the crime scene investigators and police personnel moving about the area.
At least there was no need for a medical examiner, Riley thought with relief.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” Wyatt addressed the tense couple respectfully. Two sets of frightened brown eyes turned toward him. “I’m Detective Wyatt and this is my partner, Detective McIntyre. We’ll be taking your statements.”
“We already gave statements,” Mr. Wilson protested, a mixture of weariness and indignation in his voice.
“We know,” Riley told them sympathetically, moving in front of Wyatt. Her eyes were on the husband the entire time. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to know he felt emasculated by what had happened. “You’re tired and angry and you just want to forget the whole thing ever happened. But it would
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