Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(74)

He stared at me in silence for a few seconds. Then he took each step deliberately until he plopped down on the stair next to me. He tried to recline and let his legs sprawl to another stair. His effort to look casual came off as awkward. It exposed how freaked-out he was.

Bobby continued to act cool. The sweat on his forehead and the growing spots under his arms told me otherwise. He swiveled his head in every direction.

I said, “It’s just us, Bobby. If there are any other cops around the memorial, they’ve got nothing to do with me.”

Bobby said, “I checked over at the Office of the Inspector General and I know your girlfriend is testifying before the Senate all day. I believe that you’re really on your own. What I can’t believe is that you would break into my apartment.”

“Really? That’s the behavior that’s over the line?”

“I don’t know what else you’ve done.”

“I guess we’re in the same boat. I’m only sure about one murder you committed. You have any others?”

That got under his skin. He glared at me.

Bobby then forced a smile. “How are you going to explain where you found the phone? I can explain why I have it.”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you. I mean if someone asks me from the Bureau why I have it.”

“So this is the game you’re going to play? Just deny shit? Not very original. Neither is strangling a woman. Unfortunately, it’s all too common for men to strangle women they know.”

Bobby stayed silent. With his brooding expression, I was not sure if he was trying to figure out how to get away or how to eliminate me. Either way, it meant I had him for Emily’s murder.

Bobby wasn’t budging. I guess I had thought he might confess once I showed him the phone. I was waiting on the help I’d called for. So far, I had nothing.

Bobby said, “You’re wasting my time, Detective Bennett.” The way he had used the title Detective told me he planned to play hardball. “I’ve got a lot to do. I can’t keep you company while you go senile. If you had enough, you’d turn it over to the FBI.” That was all he was going to say. And it was enough. He was disrespecting me with efficient answers. I couldn’t even bitch about it.

Then I felt my own phone vibrate. I pulled it out and looked at the text quickly. I did everything I could to keep the smile from my face. I memorized the text and slipped my phone back into my pocket.

I took a moment so it didn’t seem like I was rushing. Then I casually looked over at Bobby and said, “I’ve got more than you might think. For instance, I know you bought that fancy Montblanc pen at a shop over in Arlington.”

He couldn’t keep his eyes from popping open a little. I managed to still suppress a smile.

“You paid for it with your Mastercard. The engraving took four days.” I paused, then decided to go out on a limb. “But when you gave it to Emily, she didn’t see it for what it was.” I gave Bobby a chance to respond. He chose to remain a statue.

“She took it as a gift from a friend. But only a friend. That had to eat at you.”

You didn’t have to be a seasoned investigator to see how my analysis was hitting Bobby hard.

Now I was starting to worry that he would do something violent. No one wanted to see a gunfight outside the Lincoln Memorial.

Bobby just stared at me. But he wasn’t getting up to leave. I was going to ride this out.





Chapter 99



Bobby and I assessed each other like boxers circling in the ring. Occasionally, that’s how a challenging homicide interview can go. Often, homicide suspects think they’re much smarter than they really are. They just assume they can talk circles around the detectives. In almost every case they are wrong.

This suspect was different. Not only was Bobby Patel extremely intelligent as well as educated; he’d also been with the FBI for over five years. He understood how interviews worked. This was a tough one.

I treated it like other interviews. I tried to get a feel for the “new” Bobby. Not the FBI agent who had been helping me but the suspect in a murder. Perspective is everything. It’s rare that my perspective changes this much during an investigation.

Usually, I use some of the information I have but hold back key facts. I let the suspect fill in the gaps. That way no one can claim I led someone into confessing to something they didn’t do.

Admittedly, most suspects aren’t nearly as formidable as Bobby Patel. Besides being smart and well educated—although often one is not related to the other—Bobby was a black belt in judo. He was the total package as far as tough murder suspects go.

Then Bobby struck with the first verbal jab. He said, “If you have all this evidence, why not have your friend at the OIG just arrest me?”

I had been waiting for this one. And I was prepared. “Because I wanted to hear your side of the story.” I sat still on the hard stairs, trying to project calm. The comment seemed to have struck a chord with Bobby. He stared at me but still didn’t say anything.

I was counting on a guy like Bobby being so tightly wrapped that he wouldn’t be able to hold in something as horrendous as a murder. Looking at him now, I felt like he might break.

“C’mon, Bobby. Let it out. You’ll feel a hell of a lot better about it.” It was a bullshit comment. It didn’t really mean anything, but everyone says it. Even more surprising is the number of suspects who buy it.