Something was coming. He could feel it in the way the air seemed charged with electricity before a storm. For tonight, they were safe. Together. But Terry had been a cop long enough to know that safety was often just the calm before everything went to hell.
He pulled Sandra closer and promised himself that whatever came next, he'd be ready for it.
41
Sandra emerged from her office to find Portia chatting with Tom and Rupert near the reception area. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the worn carpet, and she felt the familiar weight of a long day settling in her shoulders.
"How's your day going?" Tom asked, loosening his tie. "You look like you've been wrestling with something complicated."
"Just a lot of work and a few hours to get it all done," Sandra said, not wanting to go into details about the Blackwood investigation. "Sometimes the simplest questions lead to the most complicated answers."
Rupert chuckled. "That's the lawyer's curse. Ask about the weather, get a dissertation on meteorological patterns."
Sandra glanced at the clock and realized her eyes couldn't take staring at papers or screens anymore. "I think I'm done for today."
She gathered her things, said goodbye to her colleagues, and headed for the parking lot. The late afternoon sun beat down on the asphalt, making heat waves shimmer above the parked cars. Sandra walked toward her sedan, already reaching for her keys, when something made her stop short.
"What the hell?"
All four tires had been slashed. Not just punctured, but deliberately cut with deep, vicious gashes that left her car sitting at an awkward angle.
Sandra felt her blood pressure spike with pure fury. She'd bought those tires six months ago, and they weren't cheap on her salary.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered, anger building in her chest as she walked around the car to catalog the damage. Each tire showed the same deliberate destruction. She scanned the parking lot for anyone watching. The strip mall suddenly felt isolated despite the other businesses and steady flow of traffic on the main road.
Was this random vandalism, or a direct response to me?
Legal Aid attorneys made enemies by the nature of their work. Landlords who didn't want to fix heating systems, contractors who didn't want to honor agreements, and employers who didn't want to pay fair wages. Any one of her cases could have generated this kind of anger.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Terry's number with fingers that weren't quite steady.
"Hey, what's up?" Terry's voice was warm, clearly expecting a casual call.
"Terry, I need you to come to my office. Someone slashed my tires."
The warmth vanished from his voice instantly. "Are you hurt? Are you safe?"
"I'm fine, but I'm standing in the parking lot looking at four destroyed tires that are only six months old, and I have to call someone to replace them."
"Don't touch anything else. Go back inside the building. I'm on my way."
Sandra stood for a few more seconds beside her wounded car, trying to ignore the way her pulse hammered against her throat. A chill ran down her spine as she realized someone had stood right here beside her car with a knife. The violation felt almost as bad as the damage itself.
Remembering Terry's instruction, she hurried back inside.
Portia looked up from her desk, concern creasing her features. "Did you forget something?"
"Someone slashed my tires," Sandra said, hearing how surreal the words sounded. "I had to call the sheriff's department."
"What?" Tom stalked from the back office, Rupert close behind. "Did you say your tires were slashed?"
"All four."
"Oh my God!" Portia cried, rushing forward to hug Sandra. "Are you okay? Did you see who did it?"
Rupert’s brows lowered. "Do you have any idea who might have done this?"
Sandra shook her head.
