by V. K. Powell
Obsessed with finding out who had sabotaged their relationship and trying to fix it, Regan worked on the case by day and her former lover by night. She followed Martha home from her office and discovered that the culprit was not some babe who had suddenly invaded her life, but a woman Martha knew very well, the athletics director at the university and her boss of eighteen years. They’d traveled together to all their out-of-town games and had sworn time and again nothing was going on between them but work.
Armed with this new information, Regan tried to persuade Martha to return. She offered to forgive her and start over. Martha requested half the appraised value of their home as soon as possible. Regan’s substantial negotiating skills were of no use on her own behalf. Was it any wonder she hadn’t been able to fully apply herself at work? She’d tried to give the case and the young officer her best effort, but it hadn’t been enough. She couldn’t concentrate on the small details that were usually the trademark of her litigating skills. No one blamed her for the loss of the case, but she knew the truth.
Even now, she found it hard to separate her professional impressions of the new case from her emotional responses to the past. She felt an attachment to the High Point officer she would be representing, yet she had never even met her. The past produced magnified feelings that made no sense in their present context, and she was growing progressively less enthusiastic about handling the case. Portions of the new file were scattered across every horizontal space on her desk and on the floor surrounding her chair. She was reviewing the case summary for the final time before meeting with the officer this afternoon and making a to-do list of the information she would need.
The shooting incident itself seemed clear-cut. An armed robber had exited a jewelry store and opened fire when confronted by Officer Cabot. The officer had returned fire and killed the suspect. Witness statements supported her account of events. Even though the suspect was only eighteen years old, his actions limited the officer’s options. The family had probably brought the lawsuit out of sheer grief, which was understandable, but not actionable by the court.
In criminal proceedings a good attorney first attacked the evidence, looking for loopholes and problems with the State’s case. If that didn’t work, the focus shifted to the victim to find “justification” for why he was victimized, how he contributed to his misfortune. If all else failed, the final mode of defense was to question the police and their procedures. But in a civil process those strategies didn’t necessarily apply.
Regan needed to find the weakness of this case before opposing counsel did and neutralize it. In criminal prosecutions the burden of proof was high, beyond a reasonable doubt; civil cases merely required a preponderance of evidence. And in her years of civil work, Regan had learned that anything could sway a jury in favor of mourning relatives. While she completely sympathized with the family, from all she had read, it seemed that Officer Cabot was just doing her job. Regan wasn’t about to let another police officer become the victim of misguided grief.
And she wasn’t about to lose another case like this one. Her pride and professional prowess were on the line. There was no personal upheaval to distract her this time, and she intended to keep it that way.
Chapter Four
Syd ducked into the third-floor restroom for one last look at her uniform. She wanted to make a good impression on the attorney who would deliver the final clearance from her eight-month ordeal. Straightening her uniform shirt where it tucked into her trousers, she was grateful for a relatively slow morning on patrol. She hadn’t had to wait in sweltering businesses for owners to respond to false burglar alarms or spend long hours directing traffic. Her uniform felt relatively fresh.
As she slid her hand down the front of her trousers, her thoughts strayed to the woman in the elevator yesterday and she felt a tingle of excitement. Maybe they would run into each other again. Blondie had definitely piqued Syd’s interest, but city hall was a big place and you could work here thirty years and never meet all the folks who filled the myriad public-service positions. Their paths had crossed twice already. How often could lightning strike in the same place?
Satisfied with her appearance, Syd checked her watch and headed for the city attorney’s complex. She arrived fifteen minutes early and surveyed her surroundings. The circular reception area was the hub for a maze of offices shielded from the waiting area by heavy wooden doors. People popped in and out of their private workstations like jacks-in-the box on a merry-go-round. The receptionist showed her into an empty conference room that housed a shiny, rectangular mahogany table with twelve leather-upholstered chairs. A bank of windows on the opposite wall made the grouping appear to float against the city’s skyline. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls on either side of the table, filled with thick procedurals and statute books.
Syd pulled out the cushy chair at the head of the table and was enjoying the view when a distinguished-looking white-haired gentleman entered the room followed by a woman. Syd recognized her immediately, Miss Friday Night Snob, the woman from the elevator. Her tailored black slacks clung to her body like idol worshipers to a rock star. A flint blue mock-necked sweater ignited the cobalt hue of her eyes and cupped palm-sized breasts that bounced perkily as she crossed the room. The only detractor to the attractive package was an oversized black blazer that hung from her shoulders like a decade-old housecoat and yelled Don’t Notice Me. But it was already too late.
Stunned, Syd rose. She couldn’t suppress a slight smile or the involuntary flutter of her heart. The gentleman spoke first, introducing himself as City Attorney Terry Blair. He motioned to the tall woman across from him. “And this is Assistant City Attorney Regan Desanto. She’s recently joined our staff from Nashville.”
Syd shook his hand and turned her attention to Regan. As their hands closed around each other, Syd noted the strength of Regan’s grasp and detected a quickening of her own fluttering heartbeat.
She maintained her grip until she felt a slight tug and knew she’d forced the attorney to purposely withdraw. The cool blue eyes that had gazed so unabashedly upon her body after orgasm now evaluated her with obvious confidence. Was it possible she hadn’t recognized Syd from the restroom? Or even the elevator? Syd’s ego felt a bit bruised. For her, Regan Desanto was instantly memorable.
“Officer Cabot, I’m pleased to meet you.”
The voice was just as cheery, sincere, and sexy as Syd remembered from the elevator. She wanted to urge her to say more just so she could listen to its easy cadence and soothing quality. And that stare. The intensity and all-encompassing nature of it made Syd feel she was the sole recipient of her attention.
“My name’s Sydney…Syd,” she said weakly.
The attorneys took their seats on either side of the table, with Syd at the head. Terry Blair rubbed his hands together and seemed to be evaluating her. Regan Desanto’s gaze hadn’t left her since she entered the room. Now her left eyebrow was arched and a questioning look was etched across her face.
Blair must’ve realized he didn’t have either woman’s attention because he cleared his throat and said, “Let’s get started.” Directing his next comment to Syd, he continued. “I’m a little surprised, Officer. In the history of our police department we’ve never had a female officer involved in the fatal shooting of a suspect.” His face flushed bright pink. “I guess that sounds sexist, doesn’t it? Believe me, I didn’t intend it to be. It just makes this conversation more difficult.”
Syd stared at him and a sick feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach. This was supposed to be a meeting to exonerate her once and for all from this nightmare, wasn’t it? “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I thought I was here to get a final all-clear on the shooting.”
Terry Blair looked like a politician who’d been caught taking money from the widows and orphans fund. He shuffled the papers in front of him and avoided Syd’s eyes. She would’ve felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been struggling to contain her rising anger. She tur
ned toward Regan Desanto and saw sadness and concern on her face. She could feel compassion emanating from the attorney and a lump formed in her throat.
“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Regan scooted her chair closer to the table, stretched her long slender fingers across the slick, flat surface toward Syd, and leaned forward as though to reach out to her. “What Terry is trying to say is that we’re not here for that reason.”
Syd swallowed hard. “Then what?”
“The family of the young man you shot has filed a civil suit against the city, the police department, and you personally.” Regan paused. “I’m very sorry, Officer Cabot. These situations are never easy.”
“These situations?” Syd pushed back from the table and jumped to her feet. “These situations? We’re not talking about a situation here, Ms. Desanto. We’re talking about my life.” She grabbed the side of the table to steady her shaking hands. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the last eight months?” She didn’t wait for a response. The pitch of her voice rose and trembled with each word. “Of course you don’t. All you’re concerned about is saving the city’s precious money.”
Syd felt as though the sky had opened up and was showering liquid lightning down on her. Perspiration popped out on her forehead and dotted her skin underneath the heavy vest. The entire shooting incident was being revived and pummeled anew into every muscle, fiber, and nerve of her being. How was this possible?
“And you?” She turned her fury on Terry Blair. “Do you really think my being a woman makes this harder? Ask anybody who’s ever killed someone. Killing doesn’t discriminate by gender, age, class, or culture. It rips us all apart, the killed and the killer. The only difference is the wounds are visible on the ones who die. You have no idea what we’ve been through. And when you pretend to understand, you just come off as patronizing.”
Regan stood and moved toward Syd. Gently grasping Syd’s upper arms, she gazed directly into her eyes. “I’m so very sorry, Officer.”
The grip on her arms sent a jolt of conflicting emotions through Syd. She wanted to scream and cry, but at the same time she wanted to rush into the strong embrace and be comforted by the compassion flowing from this stranger. Self-preservation took charge.
“Don’t touch me.” She deliberately backed away and swept her fingers through hair that clung to the sides of her hot, sticky face. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, either of you. I can’t go through this anymore. It’s not right. It’s supposed to be over.”
White heat flushed her skin, and tears threatened to reveal the depths of her despair. She felt completely out of control and exposed in front of the two people who were ripping her world apart.
Regan’s face paled. Her eyes filled with confusion and she backed away from Syd so quickly that she bumped into the table and slumped backward into her chair. “You—you’re—”
It appeared that she’d had some great epiphany and was at a loss to express the extent of her awakening, but Syd could only struggle to maintain some semblance of control.
“This is very unfortunate for all of us, Officer Cabot,” Terry Blair said, “but we have to address the issue. We’re being sued and we must respond. Would you like to take a short break before we continue?”
His voice was direct and all business. Its effect on Syd was immediate. She drew a deep, deliberate breath to disperse the pressure in her chest. Although she knew she was being illogical, she regarded these two people now as her adversaries. Few situations in the field left her feeling so violated and vulnerable. She batted her teary eyes until they felt dry and clear.
With every ounce of self-control she could summon, she dug her nails into her palms and returned to her seat.
“I don’t need a break. Let’s get this over with, please. Tell me what it means.”
Terry Blair looked at Regan, obviously expecting her to assume charge of the meeting. She was staring at her unopened file folder, as she had been since returning to her seat. When the silence became too conspicuous, he prompted, “Ms. Desanto will be handling your case.”
His comment seemed to drag Regan from her mental distraction. “Terry, I think we should discuss this further before locking into any particular course of action, or any specific case handler.”
“We’ve had this discussion, Regan. I see no reason to go over the same ground.”
Watching the exchange between the two attorneys, Syd tried to understand what was happening. They had lowered their voices to whispers but continued heatedly. The confidence she’d seen earlier in Regan Desanto’s face and bearing had vanished. It had been replaced by uncertainty and something bordering on fear.
“Excuse me.” When Syd could not get their attention, she repeated, “Excuse me,” and this time they fell silent. “If you two can’t make a simple decision about who’s going to handle this case, I’m not sure I want either of you on my side. Nobody has more to lose here than I do, so what’s going on?” She rested her gaze on Regan.
“Excuse us for a minute, Officer.” Regan stood and signaled her colleague toward the door. “We’ll be back in just a second.”
As the conference room door closed behind them, Syd’s emotions began to calm. She replayed the events of the last few minutes and formed another possible scenario. What if Regan had suddenly recognized her from the club and decided she wanted nothing to do with her? Should seeing someone naked in the throes of orgasm interfere with job responsibilities? If that was the case, then many couples would be rendered professionally inept.
On the other hand, Syd wasn’t sure about having Regan Desanto defend her under these circumstances. It really shouldn’t make any difference. It wasn’t like they had sex. Regan had simply witnessed Syd in the act with someone else, and if her expression that night was any indication, Regan was disgusted by her and would try her best to pass this assignment off to another attorney. Disappointment crept over Syd. She shook it off and told herself that she wanted the very best representative the city had. If Regan Desanto was so prudish and judgmental about witnessing the sex act, how did she perceive the moral ambiguity of killing another human being in the line of duty?
The door opened and Regan entered, having shed the oppressive black blazer. Her body seemed to bristle with vitality, more at home in the form-hugging slacks and sweater. Her eyes never left the file in front of her as she and Terry Blair returned to their seats. Setting a Diet Coke on the table, she flicked through the pages.
“What all this means, Officer Cabot, is that now we start building a civil case to defend the cited parties.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Since the incident itself has been deemed justified by Internal Affairs and the district attorney’s office, we have to assume you will be the sole subject of scrutiny.”
Her entire demeanor had changed. She’d obviously lost the coin toss but was now entirely intent on the task before her. Any hint of distraction had vanished. If Syd hadn’t seen it herself, she wouldn’t have guessed that less than five minutes ago this woman had been seriously rattled. Now the words flowed from her kissable lips with precision and authority. Syd marveled at the demonstration of control. Whatever she was selling, Syd wanted it. At this moment she couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect to handle her case. But Regan’s last statement worried her.
“What do you mean I’ll be the sole subject of scrutiny? When haven’t I been?”
Still engrossed in the documents before her, Regan replied, “I know it feels like that, but the plaintiff’s attorney is going to pick you apart. He’ll be looking into your past job performance. He may even be granted access to your Internal Affairs and personnel files.”
“Is that allowed? Can’t you do something to stop it?”
For the first time since reentering the room, Regan looked directly at Syd. “Do we need to be concerned about something in them?”
Their eyes locked, and Syd was momentarily distracted by the gaze, which felt much more personal than
the question. Regan’s eyes were a luminous shade of azure blue and sparkled with flecks of gray.
“No, of course not,” Syd answered. “Would you want someone going through your entire personnel history and every nitpicking complaint in twelve years? I don’t think anyone would welcome that kind of public review of their lives.”
Regan returned to her notes and mumbled more sympathetically, “Of course not.”
Her boss seemed to be satisfied that they were now on track. Assembling his documents, he said, “Well, I think we have some idea of what we’re up against. We just wanted to let you know what was coming, Officer. Needless to say, we’ll expect your full cooperation. Regan and I will be developing a strategy, and then she’ll meet with you. Any questions?”
“I suppose not.” Syd knew they were waiting for her to leave, but she hesitated. “Ms. Desanto?”
Regan looked up. “Yes?”
“Do you think you can win this?” Syd asked baldly.
She noticed the almost-undetectable falter in the fluid motion of Regan’s hands as she gathered the paperwork. Her gaze shifted slightly upward and to the left. Syd knew her response would be professionally and politically correct, though not completely honest.
“The facts of the case are definitely in our favor. There’s no reason to doubt our success. I know it’s difficult, Sydney…Syd. But try not to worry so much—and have a little faith in your attorney.”
Syd stared at her, appreciative of her attempts to allay her fears and offer encouragement but still uncertain she could, in fact, place full confidence in her. At this point, she had little choice, and she needed to do whatever she could to make sure Regan Desanto was on her side.
