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The cops are polite, taking the knife and paper from me, asking me questions. Matt is not far, seated in a chair and talking to his kids, glancing at me from time to time. Checking in on me. Offering his silent support.
And I appreciate it. I’ve never had anything to do with the police, and this message, so crude and insulting being passed around has opened a pit in my stomach.
Especially when the cop at the desk in front of me, a nice middle-aged lady, asks, “And who might that be?” Tapping a red fingernail on the paper. On the question asking who I’m fucking.
I press my lips together, pissed and mortified. “I can’t—”
“This will stay between us,” she tells me. “I swear I won’t tell anyone. We need a motive for these messages. It sounds like it’s someone you know, someone close to you.”
“There’s nobody close to me who would do anything as crass as this,” I mutter. “I don’t see how it helps—”
“It’s me,” Matt says, approaching us, towering over us.
My mouth falls open. “Jesus, Matt.”
The woman’s eyes widen, and I catch her giving him a once-over. Now she’s wearing a blush that matches mine, visible even under her make-up.
“Look, I have also been getting messages, same thing, stuck to my door with a knife,” he says. “Detective John Elba knows about my case. It’s possible she’s targeted because she works for me.”
Yes, I think, and now this woman knows I’m sleeping with my boss.
Frigging awesome.
She nods, picks up the phone and makes a call to this John Elba. Listens for a while, nodding and doodling on the paper where she’s been writing down the information about me.
Then she hangs up and folds her hands on the desk. “Are you sure there’s nobody who knows you both and has a thing against you? What about the messages you received, Mr. Hansen? Were you able to figure out who they were referring to? Detective Elba says you didn’t seem to know when you two talked.”
“I still don’t,” Matt says, glancing at his kids. “Except for the last one.”
“What was the last one?”
“It said, ‘What is most precious to you?’ And that’s my kids, zero fucking doubt about that.”
The woman opens her mouth, probably to tell him not to swear in a police station, with his precious kids within earshot, but in the end, she just nods.
“Fair enough. Please let us know if you manage to find the answer to the previous messages as well, Mr. Hansen. Ms. Watson.” She nods at me, too. “Try not to wander alone in deserted places, lock your doors and windows, and let us know if any new messages come up.”
Now I’m starting to see why Matt is so frustrated. The police can’t help, not with this. You strip yourself bare, give up secrets no stranger should have a right to know, and there’s nothing they can do.
Even though it’s not their fault, it stings.
We thank the woman, and Matt heads back to his kids who have been playing with his phone.
Both the cop and I turn to look at his tight ass, snug in his jeans.
“Well, I’ll be.” She sighs. “He seems like a handful.”
She figured that out, how?
Or is she talking about his ass? Good God.
And yet I can’t help but grin as I follow Matt out. He sure is sexy, and walking through the station with him and his kids, in my black dress and heels, after the hot sex we had together last night… For the first time in my
life, I don’t feel like a kid anymore, but like a real woman.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Matt
