Murder in the Aisles by Olivia Hill Page A

all-male as he appeared to be, seemed to take on an added layer of male swag the moment he crossed the threshold of the boys’ club. Maybe it was that they all carried guns, or knew that they had a power that was reserved for a chosen few, and that every day of their lives they lived on the edge were the things that charged the atmosphere like high octane fuel in an engine. She couldn’t be sure. What she was sure of was that she could feel it.
    Mark led them down one hallway and around a short corner that opened onto what was referred to as the bullpen—rows of desks and file cabinets, and officers in various stages of activity: hammering away reports in triplicate, barking into the phones, conferring in corners and slamming in and out of the space.
    When she came fully into the room, a momentary silence coated the air. She felt as if she was suddenly undergoing some kind of out-of-body experience, where the world stood still and she was the only one aware of it. Then just as suddenly the buzz and hum resumed.
    Mark walked over to what Felicia assumed was his desk.
    â€œHey, Ed, this is Dr. Swift from the library.” Mark shuffled some papers around on his desk.
    Eddie lowered his paper and for an instant his eyes widened. He sat up straight in his seat, put his paper down and actually stood up. He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Doctor. Eddie McKnight.”
    Felicia slipped her hand into his. “Nice to meet you, too.”
    â€œSo, uh, what brings you down here?”
    Felicia opened her mouth to speak but Mark cut her off.
    â€œThe library case.”
    â€œThe library case? Captain closed that case a couple of days ago.”
    Mark gave him a hard look.
    Eddie cleared his throat. He looked from one to the other. “Hey, then I guess you better get to it. Captain’s out at a meeting with the Commissioner. Heard he won’t be back until late.”
    Mark’s expression eased. “Thanks. I’ll be in the back room.”
    â€œSure. Nice to meet you, Dr. Swift.” He slowly sat back down and watched them walk away.
    Mark led her down another hallway to a string of small offices. He opened the door to the last one on the left. He held the door for her. The room, if you could call it that, was about a foot bigger than Felicia’s hall closet by her estimation. It was windowless. How a desk, a computer and two chairs fit was a challenge to the laws of physics.
    â€œI would say make yourself comfortable…” He looked around and offered an apologetic grin.
    â€œNo problem.” She took off her coat. Already the airless room was beginning to get the best of her. She felt a wave of anxiety sweep through her. A line of perspiration etched itself across her hairline. Breathe. Breathe. Count. Count. You’re not locked in here . You can get out at any time . Her vision blurred. Flashes of that room, that night, that terror, raced through her head. Breathe . She was seventeen again. Breathe .
    â€œYou okay?” Mark stepped up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re shaking all over. What’s wrong?”
    â€œCould I, uh, have some water please?”
    â€œSure. Sure. Hey, sit down.” He ushered her to a seat. “I’ll be right back.”
    The instant he left, Felicia put her head between her knees and took long, deep breaths. Slowly the panic began to subside, but her heart continued to thunder. She lifted her head and looked around, accepting the room for what it was, not the vagaries that her mind told her that it was. She clenched her fists on her lap.
    â€œHere ya go.” Mark came up from behind her and handed her the Dixie cup of cold water.
    â€œThank you.” She swallowed it all in two gulps and then placed the cup on the desk.
    Mark sat on the edge of the desk and studied her. “Feeling better?”
    Felicia barely nodded and then suddenly stood, nearly knocking Mark off the side of the