When Shawn grunts in response, I pull open the door and step out into the main room of the police station. Uniformed officers move throughout the space in addition to those in suits and plain clothes.
Ahead, Shawn’s partner, whom I briefly met earlier, looks up and offers me a friendly smile. “You in search of caffeine?”
“I am.”
He gets up and lifts the mug on his desk. “I can help with that. This way.” He starts walking and gestures for me to follow as he weaves through desks and toward a glass door on the opposite side.
Anderson pulls open the door, so I step inside, and the moment it closes behind us, the noise from the precinct fades away. I breathe a sigh of relief, then start looking for the coffee.
Which Anderson has already started prepping. “So, how’s it going in there?” he asks.
“Slow,” I reply. “But I’ve waited a decade; what’s a little bit longer, right?”
He chuckles. “Fair enough. But I imagine you’re even more desperate for answers.”
“You’re not wrong there.”
As the coffee machine begins to drip dark, aromatic liquid into the glass pot, Anderson turns and leans back against the table, crossing his arms to face me.
“I’m really sorry about what happened to him. That’s awful.”
“Thanks.”
He nods. “I remember seeing it on the news. I wasn’t a cop back then, but the story was all over the place.”
My jaw clenches. “Yeah, they definitely didn’t try to keep it quiet, did they?”
“That’s the media for you,” he replies. “Have you guys found anything yet? I offered to help, but Shawn said you had it covered.”
“We do. For now. But thanks for offering.” I run a hand through my loose hair. “So far, we have nothing. But I’m optimistic that’ll change.”
“I hope it does, too.” He smiles. “I read the article about your last case, by the way. This morning, after you showed up, I looked into you.” His cheeks blush softly, and I smile. He’s genuinely adorable. Younger than me by a few years, but sweet.
“That was a tough case. But it wrapped up well.”
“Definitely seems like it did. You do good work, Ms. Wallace. And that’s not something I say about many lawyers.”
I laugh, not at all taking offense. My own partners disgust me with some of the cases they take on. We should be here to protect the victims—not support the guilty. “I completely understand that. Believe me.”
The door is yanked open, and a frustrated Shawn storms in. “Break time?” he asks Anderson.
“Just making our guest some coffee, partner,” he replies, completely unbothered by the fact that Shawn looks about ready to rip him a new one. The coffee maker beeps, so he turns toward it.
I glare over at Shawn. I know he’s helping me—and that’s great—but does he really have to be so rude all the time?
Anderson pours me a fresh cup, then offers it to me. “Cream is in the refrigerator, and we have sugar right over there.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No problem at all. Good luck. Let me know if I can help at all.”
“Will do.” I smile at him and watch as he fills his mug then leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
As soon as we’re alone, I whirl on Shawn. “So, it’s not just me you look down on?”
His gaze finds mine. “Excuse me?”
“You talked to your partner like he’s your employee.”
