<strong>Susan Cochrane<br/>At Miami PD<br/>Talking with Emily</strong><br/><br/>An apology?  Not walking away rapidly from a tightly wound possible nutjob?  And smiling, a lovely smile, not just sympathy, empty sympathy, but with real concern.<br/><br/>Susan hadn't felt that anyone actually cared about what happened to her since the VA had told her she was ready to face the world, good luck!<br/><br/>Right.<br/><br/>"I work on the street, spend far too much time there."  She did not confirm the was a street doctor, no one appeared to be listening, but you never knew what hidden cameras or directional mikes might be monitoring you at a place like this.  Which made her dead certain that Emily was not used to truble from the Law.  That was comforting, on several levels.  Much of her tension drained away, faint lines in her face faded a little.  She still had a very tense interview ahead, but maybe things were starting to look up?<br/><br/>"I have no idea how long I'll be in there, hope to be done by late afternoon."<em> Dearly hope.</em>And no guts, no glory.  She took a small notecard out of her bag.`  Her name and cell phone number.  "Would you like to grab a bite to eat when we're both done here?  Nothing fancy, maybe just a taco truck.  My treat."<em>You could walk into any girl bar in the city, and they'd be snarling at each other over you.</em>"I'm likely to be tied up longer than you, my phone is in my car, but I'll check my messages the second I reach it."