“Yes, I know.”
“I wonder why it’s not SOOL.” He waited. She didn’t react. “Tough room,” he said under his breath. Then, “I didn’t seek anything, Dr. Reede. This was forced on me, so don’t expect to yield a fucking thing. Oops, sorry. My bad. Slip of the tongue.”
She didn’t bat an eye. “In here, you’re free to say whatever you like.”
“Truly? And you won’t tell anybody?”
“I’m bound by law not to.”
He gave her another grin. “See, that was a test. Because I already knew that you’re bound by confidentiality. Law enforcement officers despise it. I can’t count the number of times your rules have been a pain in the ass when we’re trying to nail somebody, and you psychology folks refuse to give over incriminating confessions confided to you.”
“To turn over information requires a court order.”
“Tell me,” he said, grimacing. “And it’s like pulling teeth to get a judge to issue one, and usually his or her honor outright refuses.”
“Unless the patient poses an imminent threat to someone.”
“Right. Imminent, i.e., before the fact. After the fact, a killer can relate to you in gory detail how he’s murdered somebody, and enjoyed the hell out of it, and you don’t tell.”
She pointed to the wall behind her. Hanging on it was a framed doctorate diploma.
“I get it, I get it,” he said. “Sacred oath and all. But…” He sat up straighter, leaned toward her, and lowered his voice. “Don’t you ever break the rules? Or bend them? Just a little bit? Hmm? I mean, how do I know that as soon as I walk out of here, you’re not going to get John Bowie on the horn and repeat everything I’ve said to you?”
Despite his taunting, which she ignored, she made a notation on her notepad. “Tell me about yourself.”
Damn, she was a cool customer. If he stuck with this, her reserve would be an obstacle he would have to work around. He was accustomed to winning people over by joking. A smart-aleck remark could defuse a dicey situation almost as effectively as producing a lethal weapon. A well-placed wisecrack could disarm, or at least distract, even the toughest of toughies.
She appeared about as tough as a marshmallow, yet, so far, his jests had bounced right off her. But he wasn’t done yet.
He flopped back and resumed his slouch. “Something about myself? Let’s see.” He snapped his fingers. “Just the smell of Brussels sprouts makes me want to hurl.”
She set her pen on the notepad and moved it aside. Placing her elbows on her knees—which he had to admit were a distraction—and looking at him earnestly, she said, “I want to help you, Mitch.”
His insolent smile vanished along with his levity. He narrowed his eyes. “Help me do what, exactly? Learn to cope with my ‘circumstances’? What all did John tell you? Or are you bound by professional privilege to keep the lid on that, too?”
“My confidentiality applies to you, not him.”
“Then tell me what he told you about me.”
“That you have a sharp and sardonic wit, which, in the last few minutes, I’ve experienced for myself.”
“It hasn’t thawed you any,” he mumbled.
“You definitely use it to your benefit. To charm, absolutely. But also to hide behind.”
“Hide behind?” He frowned. “How’s that?”
She gave him a look that said she knew he understood her perfectly, but she expanded anyway. “Lieutenant Bowie said he can gauge how troubled you are by the frequency of your wisecracks.”
“He said that? Huh. Maybe he should go for one of those.” He raised his chin toward the diploma on the wall. “I’ll tell you one thing, my joke-cracking beats his brooding. He can sulk like nobody’s business. For days sometimes. You wouldn’t believe that a guy as mean-looking as he is could be so pouty. Drives Beth—that’s his wife—drives her crazy when he’s in one of his funks. She’s finally learned, as I did years ago, to leave him be. Eventually he’ll shake it off.”
She heard him out, but then picked up where she’d left off. “He told me that you don’t panic in a crisis situation. When things go wrong—”
“We use terms like ‘fubar’ or ‘tits up.’”
“—you’re the person he wants at his back. He trusts you to come through for him. You and he have a close personal friendship and working relationship.”
“Both of which have gone tits up.”
