Embracing His Syn (Nothing Special 2)

Syn stood up to shake the man’s hand. Johnson gave Day a playful shove before he turned a warm, genuine smile on Syn and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you Sydney. Ro has told me some interesting things about you already. Anyone that will head-butt the fuck out of Godfrey, I like.”

God looked up from his file just long enough to flip Johnson off, then went back to reading.

Syn liked this Johnson already. He didn’t know Ronowski was going around singing his praises though. “Nice to meet you too,” Syn answered.

After pleasantries, Johnson got right down to business. “Ballistics matched the slug that was pulled out of your vic's body with the 9mm we recovered from your suspect last night. It has a fifteen round chamber and three rounds were still in the clip. Bad news is the slugs pulled from the previous three bodies didn’t come from this weapon.”

“Damn. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” God grumbled.

“She may have more than one weapon, we'll see what turns up during the search of her residence. Have you questioned her yet?” Johnson asked.

“No. We’re letting her stew,” Day said.

Johnson went over a few more details before gathering up his evidence and heading to the door. Ronowski met him there. Syn watched but didn’t watch.

“You coming home late?” Johnson asked Ronowski.

“I hope not, we’ll see.”

He’d be damn if Johnson didn't bend down right there in front of twenty men and kiss Ronowski’s lips. “I’ll see you when you get there.” Johnson’s deep voice even made Syn tingle as he saw a loving look flash across Ro's face before he turned back to them.

I’ll be damned. That big, motherfucker is gay too ... and fucking Ronowski to boot.

The interesting part about that whole scene; no one batted an eye. This team really was a team. There was no judgment or bigotry between them. Syn believed that it was no accident of fate. No one had time for that petty bullshit anyway. These men kept things in perspective. There were innocent people in their city being killed by tainted drugs; no one had time or energy to waste being judgmental about who made love to whom.

The meeting concluded three hours later with Syn giving the men their assignments for the day. Some were going back to the crime scene. A couple Detectives were researching the fucked up drug. Others were going over evidence secured from the search warrant of their suspect’s home, and some were going out to pick up the first round of adult entertainers from Illustra to be questioned. After answering the men’s questions, Syn headed downstairs.

‘See, I Told You That Bitch Crazy’

Syn met Day and God at the interrogation rooms. Their suspect was sitting ramrod straight in the small metal chair. Syn knew her posture was meant to be a statement that even though fatigued; she refused to give them the satisfaction of showing it. Her hands were cuffed, her fingers laced together and resting on top of the table.

They watched her through the one-way window. She raised her head and glared at the mirrored glass, smirking as if she knew they were there.

“Cocky little thing, ain’t she?” Syn mumbled.

“I like her.” Day grinned.

“You would,” God huffed. “Let’s not forget she likes to kill pretty men.”

“Ahh. Touché.” Day took the file from God’s hands and handed it over to Syn. Syn nodded to the officer to unlock the door.

The three of them walked in, faces impassive. God took up his post in the corner at the suspect’s back. It was a tactic to make her aware of her vulnerability to God’s hulking form. Day propped his hip on the corner of the table and Syn sat across from her. Without a word, Syn removed the crime scene photos from the file and lined them up in front of her. Four graphic photos of a man with multiple bruises and a gaping hole in his chest.

Syn watched for a reaction. Getting none, he began to speak in a level tone. “I’m Sergeant Sydney, this is Lieutenant Day, and behind you is Lieutenant Godfrey. You are Janet Lindstrom; A.K.A. Lady Jay. A.K.A. Black Widow. Leader of a right wing, lesbian extremist group. Organizer of the–”

“Feminist group, dickhead,” she snapped, interrupting him.

Syn looked up slowly, “Excuse me?”

“You said ‘lesbian extremist.’ Our organization is not defined by our sexuality."

“Do you like cock or not?” Syn asked nonchalantly.

“What does that have to do with why I’m here?” she asked.

“I’ll take that has a no. Is that why you killed Jake Statham, known as Jake Starman … because he had a dick?”

Syn waited but she didn’t answer. “Tell us what happened last night Janet. You were seen fleeing the crime scene. When stopped, you opened fire on us and ran.” Syn stressed his strongest evidence. “You shot at police officers before you were caught. Bullets fired from your weapon match the bullet we removed from Statham’s chest. Tell us what's going on, and we'll see what we can do for you. Tell us where you got the laced ecstasy and maybe you’ll be back to leading your crazy broads before you're old and dried up.”