"That's bullshit," Terry said bluntly, then caught himself. "Sorry, I mean?—"
"No, you're absolutely right. It is bullshit." Sandra's laugh was genuine and infectious. "Webb's been looking for an excuse to clear out his low-income tenants so he can renovate and charge higher rent. The drug bust just gave him what he hoped would be a good excuse."
Terry leaned forward, his professional instincts engaging. "What do you need from me?"
"A statement confirming that the Johnsons cooperated fully with your investigation, and that there was no evidence of their involvement or knowledge of Derek Masterson’s activities."
"That's easy enough. They were model citizens throughout the entire process." Terry watched Sandra make notes, admiring the focused intensity she brought to her client's case. "Mrs. Johnson made coffee for the officers during the search and kept apologizing for the inconvenience."
"Really?" Sandra looked up, her eyes bright with hope. "That's perfect. It shows their attitude toward law enforcement cooperation."
"I can provide a written statement and testify at the hearing if needed." Terry found himself wanting to do more, to find additional ways to help that would give him reasons to work with her again. "Is there anything else that might strengthen their case?"
Sandra's radiant smile left Terry with a warm shift in his chest that had nothing to do with professional satisfaction.
"You have no idea how much this helps. The Johnsons are in their seventies, and this apartment is all they can afford. Losing it would be devastating."
"I'm glad I can help." Terry meant it, but he realized his motivation had shifted somewhere during their conversation. He wanted protection for the Johnson family, but he also wanted to see Sandra smile like that again. "Is there anything else you need?"
They spent another twenty minutes going over the details of the case, and Terry found himself paying as much attention to Sandra's animated expressions as he did to the legal strategy. She was passionate about her work in a way that reminded himof why he'd chosen law enforcement in the first place—to protect people who couldn't defend themselves.
"I think that covers everything," Sandra said finally, closing the file with satisfaction. "Captain… um… Terry, I can't thank you enough. This testimony could make all the difference."
"It's my job," Terry said, though he knew that wasn't entirely true. He'd gone above and beyond what was required, and they both knew it.
He stood to leave, reluctant to end their meeting despite having covered all the necessary ground. "Well, I should let you get back to work. And I promised those cookies to my kids."
Sandra's eyes lit up with understanding. "Bess’s chocolate chip cookies are dangerous. I swear the smell alone has convinced me to stop there more times than I can count."
"Guilty as charged." Terry grinned, enjoying the easy rapport between them. "My kids would revolt if I came home empty-handed after promising treats."
"How old are they?" The spontaneous question seemed genuine rather than just polite small talk.
"Emma's twelve and Toby's eleven.” Then he added, “Single dad.” He wasn’t sure why he included that distinction, but it slipped out before he gave it much thought.
Instead, Sandra's smile softened. "That must keep you busy."
"Every day," Terry admitted. "But I can't imagine it any other way."
Something passed between them at that moment. Terry felt the pull of attraction, stronger than anything he'd experienced in years, but also the familiar weight of responsibility. Dating was complicated when you had kids to consider.
"Well…" Sandra stood. "Your kids are lucky to have a dad who keeps his promises about cookies."
Terry headed toward the reception area, intensely aware of Sandra walking beside him. At the door, he turned back, his hand already on the handle.
"If you need anything else for the Johnson case, don't hesitate to call."
"I will. Thank you again, Terry. Really."
He stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine, the spring air carrying the competing scents of fresh bread from the bakery and exhaust from the main road. As he walked toward the bakery, Terry found himself hoping the Johnson case would require more meetings, more phone calls, more reasons to see Sandra O'Neill again.
Behind him, he heard the Legal Aid office door close, but he could feel Sandra's presence through the window. When he glanced back, she was watching him leave, and their eyes met for a moment before she raised her hand in a small wave.
Terry entered the bakery with Sandra's smile fixed in his memory and the uncomfortable realization that his carefully ordered life had just become a lot more complicated. He hadn't felt this kind of immediate attraction to a woman since... well, maybe ever. But between his job, his kids, and the complex logistics of single parenthood, pursuing anything beyond professional cooperation seemed impossible.
Still, as he selected a dozen chocolate chip cookies and watched Bess wrap them in the familiar white box, Terry couldn't stop thinking about Sandra's laughter, the passion in her voice when she talked about her clients, and the way she'd looked genuinely interested when he mentioned his children.
Maybe "impossible" wasn't the same as "inadvisable." Perhaps, for the first time in years, it was worth finding out.
