Suspect Passions by V. K. Powell

attorney may dredge up. If there’s anything you think could be viewed as unfavorable, please let me know now.”
    “I can’t think of anything.”
    Regan regarded her with skepticism. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t tell me if there was. I can’t impress upon you enough how important it is for you not to keep anything from me.”
    “I am unaware of anything in my file that would be cause for concern. But, then, I’m not an ambulance-chasing attorney hell-bent on destroying a hardworking cop’s life.”
    The pain in Syd’s voice was covered by a thin coat of anger, but Regan had mastered the art of discerning the two emotions as a child. “That’s not the intended result but sometimes it certainly can be.” She took a sip from her Diet Coke and rolled the can between her palms. “I know this is difficult, but I need you to tell me about the night of the shooting, if you can.”
    “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me before I came in?”
    “I honestly didn’t think you’d show up if you knew.”
    “You’re absolutely right. It’s a waste of time.” Syd rose from her seat and paced back and forth in front of the windows. “It’s all in the report. I’ve given my statement so many times I’ve lost count.”
    “Yes, it’s all here, but I’d like to hear it from you.” Regan felt Syd bristle from across the room and braced herself for the response.
    “What’s with you people, anyway?” Syd whirled on her as if prepared to strike. “Do you get some perverse pleasure out of putting me through this over and over? Why can’t you just read the damn file?”
    “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need to verify the repeated consistency of your version of the incident, and, more importantly, I need to get a sense of you as a witness.”
    Anger and pain alternated in equal parts across Syd’s tortured face. “You mean I have to tell it again?”
    “We hope that won’t be necessary, but it’s a possibility.”
    Syd shook her head. “Is there no end to this?”
    Regan knew the last question was rhetorical. She waited for Syd to calm enough to tell her story once again. This was a critical part of her case and could not be rushed.
    “It was August twentieth and hot as hell.”
    Syd’s voice was almost inaudible. Regan leaned closer but didn’t speak.
    “Some of the shops at Oak Hollow Mall were having a sale. It was closing time. I got the call of a robbery in progress at Bradford Jewelers. They gave a description of the suspect. I rolled to the scene blacked out.”
    Regan looked up from taking notes. “I’m sorry, blacked out?”
    “I didn’t run lights or siren. It’s the recommended response if you’re close to an incident and don’t want to alert the suspect of your arrival. So, I parked out of sight of the entrance and approached on foot.”
    Syd stopped and drew several deep breaths. “That night, it was hot and humid. I could hear the traffic on the surrounding streets and the calm of the mall parking lot. The area stunk of rotting garbage from the overfilled Dumpsters and stale beer from a nearby bar. Everything was sharply focused but in freeze-frame snapshots.
    “I was flattened against the wall making my way to the entrance when the door burst open and the suspect ran out. He had a gun in one hand. I announced myself and told him to stop. He turned toward me, brought the gun up, and aimed it at me. There was no cover anywhere around me.”
    Regan watched Syd swivel, looking for cover, as if reliving the event in real time. She had no frame of reference for the feelings that must have overtaken her.
    “I hit the ground, yelling for him to drop the weapon. He kept aiming at me. I rolled out of his sight line and fired twice. Everything else was just aftermath.”
    Syd stopped as if further explanation was unnecessary. Silence seeped into the stacks of books around them and swelled like a liquid invasion. Regan stared at her, amazed at the