Chapter 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.
"Any recent cases that felt particularly contentious?" Rupert asked, his face pale.
“It may have just been random—”
Before Sandra could say more, Terry's SUV pulled into the lot, followed by an unmarked car. Sandra walked outside and watched Terry emerge, his face set in hard lines she'd rarely seen. Sam Shackley and Aaron Bergstrom, both detectives she'd met at police functions, joined them.
"Sandra." Terry's voice was tight with controlled anger as he approached her. Sam and Aaron began circling her car, taking photos and examining the tire damage with professional efficiency.
Aaron crouched beside one of the slashed tires. "Clean cuts, deep. Maybe military grade knife. Whoever did this, did a fucking thorough job."
"Security cameras?" Terry asked, his eyes scanning the strip mall.
"Legal Aid has cameras, but they only cover the entrance," Sandra said. "I don't think they reach the parking lot."
"We need to check with the neighboring businesses," Sam said, standing and dusting off his knees. "Someone maybe saw something."
Portia, Tom, and Rupert emerged from the building, their concern evident as they took in the scene of police investigation.
"Any of you here when this happened?" Terry asked, his words clipped.
"We've been inside all afternoon," Tom said. "Didn't hear anything unusual."
“I haven’t left the office all day,” Portia said.
“I went home at lunch, but have been here since then,” Rupert chimed in.
Sam looked up from his examination of the car. "We should check with Bess's Bakery. They had some trouble a few months back, and I think they installed cameras. Might not reach this end of the lot, but it’s worth asking."
"Good thinking," Aaron said, looking at the deputies who’d just arrived in a cruiser. “Start canvassing the area. See if anyone saw anything suspicious," he ordered.
Sandra watched the investigation's organized efficiency, but her mind kept returning to whether she was actually targeted or if the crime was random. And if she was targeted, then who and why?
"Terry," she said quietly, drawing him aside as the other officers worked. "I know this could be about any number of cases, but the timing..."
"You think this is connected to your Blackwood investigation." It wasn't a question.
"I don’t even know if I was the one someone was targeting. But I approached Harrison at the baseball game. Asked about using local suppliers instead of Norfolk. He got defensive." Sandra kept her voice low. "This feels like a warning."
The protective fury in his expression made her chest tighten with emotion she wasn't prepared for. She placed her hand on his arm. "I’m okay," she reassured. “But I do need to have Rupert tell you about a phone call he received.”
Terry’s gaze snapped over to the two men standing nearby. Sandra called Rupert over and had him repeat the conversation he had with Marcus Webb. She watched as Terry listened, and his face hardened with each passing minute.
Finally, the others went inside, leaving Sandra with Terry. “What do you think?” she asked.
"I think someone's getting desperate enough to take risks in broad daylight." Terry glanced back at her ruined car. "Slashing four tires took some time and balls. This wasn't some random punk—this was planned.”
Sandra nodded, looking at her car and thinking about her clients. Her gut screamed that this was tied to the Blackwoods, but without proof, she had nothing more than just a feeling. And legally, a feeling counted for nothing.
"Captain?" Aaron called out from across the parking lot. "You might want to see this."
Terry and Sandra walked over to where Aaron was crouched beside a dumpster at the edge of the lot. In his gloved hand, he held a fixed-blade tactical knife with a reinforced tip. “Looks like fresh rubber residue on the blade.”
"Whoever did this didn't want to get caught with this on them.”
Terry's expression was grim. "Bag it. We'll process it for prints, but I doubt we'll get anything useful."
After the detectives left, Terry called for a tow truck.
Soon, Jason came out. He shook hands with Terry and told Sandra he could order the tires.
He even had a small sedan he could loan her for a few days.
She was glad not to be without wheels, and ran inside to grab her purse and say goodbye to her coworkers.
Once ensconced in Terry’s SUV, they followed the tow truck to Baytown.