He hit play, and she looked away. Didn’t need to see the rerun. Repetitiveness got on her nerves like nothing else.
The clipped, tense words captured electronically floated in the air. The perp demanding the money from the register. Threatening to shoot. The clerk pleading for his life. And then, her voice . . .
If you want to shoot someone, why not me?
The perp had swung his attention to Finley. She’d met his gaze, daring him to act . . . emboldening him. He, of course, shouted for her to shut up. She, of course, did not, and on it went for a few more seconds before he . . . recognized her.
That instant clicked like a gun blast in her brain. She blinked.
“You stepped toward him,” Graves said as he paused the video. “That’s when he turned his gun on you.”
She met the detective’s accusing gaze. “Allowing the clerk to save both our lives.”
Graves started the video again.
Shut up! Stay back!
But she hadn’t. She had stepped even closer, allowing the muzzle of his weapon to press against her.
Go ahead. You want to shoot someone, shoot me.
Wait . . . I know—
The would-be shooter’s words ended abruptly when the clerk pulled the trigger of the weapon he’d snatched from beneath the counter.
The bullet plowed through the perp’s head, splattering his blood and other matter across Finley’s face, effectively obliterating the word he would have said next.
The brief flutter of disappointment she’d felt when he failed to fire his own weapon rushed through her now. It was the oddest, most unexpected reaction. Some small part of her had felt relief, but mostly she’d experienced a sort of regret.
She was still alive.
Her therapist would be disheartened by her momentary lapse, which was why she had no intention of telling him. What the man didn’t know couldn’t hurt him; however, if he were to find out, it would certainly cause a pain in Finley’s ass.
“I’m guessing,” Graves said, “he was going to say you. What do you think?”
Finley stared at the detective and said what any good prosecutor would. “He walked into the store, a loaded weapon in hand, with the intent to commit robbery and possibly murder. Whatever he was going to say is irrelevant, Detective. His actions spoke loudly and clearly.”
“What about your actions?”
“Are we finished here?”
The silence lagged for a beat too long. A cliché tactic to say the least.
“Almost.” His gaze searched hers as if he expected to see guilt or maybe fear. “You’re certain you didn’t know this man?”
“As I’ve told you already, I did not know this man.” There was a distinct difference between knowing a person and having met him before. The detective hadn’t asked the right question.
“Very well.” He exhaled a breath loaded with frustration. “I felt an obligation to send a copy of the report to your therapist—particularly since he refused to answer any of my questions.”
Fury whipped through Finley. “That’s crossing the line, Detective, and you know it.”
“Under the circumstances . . .” He shrugged. “I didn’t think so.”
She had to give him credit: the move was one she hadn’t anticipated.
Finley pushed back her chair and stood. “You have my number if you feel the need to repeat any more of the questions I’ve already answered.”
He followed suit, moving more quickly than she would have believed him capable of to open the door. Before stepping aside for her to exit, he spoke once more. “Like I said, I read the file on your husband’s murder.”
The anger still simmering inside her burst into outrage, but she knew better than to open her mouth when she was this furious. Courtroom battles were lost when emotion was allowed to make an untimely appearance.
“What the perp did to you after he killed your husband was unspeakable.” Graves shook his head. “I have a daughter, and I can’t even imagine.”
Could he not just step aside and let her go? Feelings she’d buried as deep as her psyche would allow threatened to surface. She forced them back.
She would not go there again.
“It’s a damned shame he hasn’t been caught.” He made a tsking sound. “Hard to do when the bastard left no evidence.” He shook his head. “Not one damned speck.”
The silent standoff lasted another five or so seconds before Graves finally moved.
Finley walked out.
What had he expected her to say?