Carl was halfway to his feet when a woman he did not recognize walked regally into his office.

That was strange. Usually only Denny or Alan barged in unannounced.

He removed his glasses to get a better look at her as she stood just inside the door, her blue eyes studying him just as much as he was studying her.

He cleared his throat as he straightened his jacket. "Oh. I'm sorry. I was expecting . . . can I help you?"

"I think I am who you are expecting. Andy Sutherland."

Carl's well-laid plans of protecting the firm from another sexual harassment suit crashed around him. "You mean . . . you're Andy Sutherland? With the Boston Police Department?"

She looked at him, amusement dancing across her face. "Were you expecting someone else?"

"Well, with your name, a man for starters." Carl blurted out.

Andy cocked her head. "Isn't that sort of . . . well . . . illegal?"

Carl mentally shook himself. Wrong thing to say. "I'm sorry. Please come in." Remembering his manners, he met her at the door, shutting it behind her and motioning to a chair across from his desk.

Funny, with heels, she was almost his height. It was rare to meet a woman who could rival his 6'4".

Denny was going to have a field day.

After settling behind his desk, he folded his hands on top of it. "Ms. Sutherland. It seems there's been a misunderstanding. It seems that . . . well . . . you would not be the right fit for this position."

She cocked her head, still amused. Not much fazed this one.

"How so?"

Carl cleared his throat nervously, trying to choose his words carefully. That would just take the cake. Getting the firm into a lawsuit himself when he was worried about Denny doing it for them. "As . . . as sexist as this may sound, this particular position needs a . . . a . . ."

"Man?" Andy coaxed.

He glared at her momentarily.

"Sorry. You looked like you were struggling there." She didn't look all that apologetic.

Carl cleared his throat. "Yes. A man. The partner you will be working for is known for his . . . ah . . . penchant for . . ."

Andy crossed her legs, carefully making sure her skirt remained over her knee. "I'm quite aware of Denny Crane's 'penchant' for the ladies. His reputation precedes him." Quite legendary, actually, throughout the PD.

"And you still want to work for him?" Carl couldn't help but ask.

Andy shrugged nonchalantly. "You've seen my resume. I've heard every sexist, feminist, crude and downright disgusting comment you can think of. I imagine whatever Mr. Crane can dish out, I can take."

He couldn't argue with her there. Police rolls all over the country were decidedly male.

And she most certainly was as feminine as they came.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat loudly at that random thought.


Andy could tell his mind was going a mile a minute. Sure, she was not what he expected. But, she waited on her cue to convince him she was exactly what he needed.

Or Denny Crane needed, to be exact.

At least until a detective position opened up at another police department.

"Denny's going to love this," he finally said, shaking his head in remorse.

"So, I have the job?" she asked in what she hoped was not a too-eager a voice.

He looked determined to grab the upper hand in this situation, and she had to smile within watching him grapple with this situation.

Wouldn't be the first time she'd caused a ruckus.

And wouldn't be the first time she wondered what her mother and father were thinking when they named her Andy.

Mr. Sack picked up her resume, mainly for something to do with his hands. She hadn't spent years studying people, judging the best way to talk complete strangers out of desperate situations for nothing.

"You seem a little . . . overqualified for this job."

"You mean underqualified, don't you?"

He gave her an 'I-know-what-I'm-talking-about' glare. "Why go from police department to law firm?"

Andy cleared her throat, ready for this question. "As you know, most of police work involves paperwork. Filing reports. Wading through red tape to get a job completed. I'm very familiar with the justice system, and I don't see where working at this firm is any different. Just a different . . . part of it."

Still a little off his guard – she could tell by the way he kept fiddling with his glasses on his desk – it was easy to tell that he was wavering.

"Plus, as you mentioned, this is a male-dominated world, just like the force. I can handle what Mr. Denny Crane can dish out. And I don't believe you'll run across too many people – male or female – who could."


Carl couldn't argue with her there. She was sensible, down-to-earth and straightforward, but tactful. Traits he always appreciated.

But, why did she have to be such a looker?

"You have doubts." Her voice broke through his thoughts, scattered them to the four corners of his mind.

"And you are very perceptive, Ms. Sutherland."

Still as relaxed as she was when she sauntered into his office, she shrugged. "You have one of the most expressive faces I've seen in a long time. Especially for an attorney. They tend to be a little closed off from everyone."

Carl stared at her for a moment, slightly taken aback. He had always prided himself for closing everyone out. How this . . . complete stranger honed right in on that was nothing short of extraordinary. "What, may I ask, did you do for the Boston PD?"

"I am . . . was what they call the negotiator. They sent me in during hostage situations, suicide attempts, and that sort of thing to talk people out of what they want – or don't want – to do."

Keeping close tabs on the local news, something nagged at his mind. Something to do with a lawsuit against the city. "Why did you leave?"

"I was fired," she said simply, the first shadow of doubt crossing her delicate features.


Andy didn't have to tell him any of this. By law, her firing from a previous employer was none of his business. But, she'd always found honesty really was the best policy. She'd tell Mr. Sack what he wanted to know. If he didn't hire her because of it, fine.

But, maybe he would represent her in her civil case.

She sure caught his attention, and he leaned back in his chair, motioning for her to continue.

She took a deep breath and did just that. "A few months ago, we were called out to a . . . an upper class neighborhood. It's rare to receive hostage calls from there, but with the economy as it is . . ." she let her words trail off, shrugging for a moment before continuing in as monotone voice as she could manage. "A 40-year old male had taken his wife and two children hostage, screaming something about putting them all out of their misery. He'd already shot the family dog. By the time I arrived, he'd worked himself into such a lather, I didn't even think he'd let me inside."

Carl had to admit, he was enthralled with her story. Sure, based on first appearances, she looked like a pampered female who hadn't worked a day in her life with her artfully applied make-up and her expensive clothes.

But, she was a cop. And, she'd faced down people and situations that would break most men.

But, she retold the story as if it were another day at the office.

"I stayed in there with them for ten hours. He'd lost his job, and his house was getting ready to be foreclosed. His cars had already been repossessed. Most of the time, these people need someone to talk to, to feel that someone is on their side in a world full of uncaring, indifferent humans." She paused for a moment. "I thought I had him convinced. But, with a calm expression on his face, he looked at me. Held the gun to his wife's head and pulled the trigger. I jumped for the weapon, and almost had it. But, he shoved me aside, put the gun to his own head and ended it." She bit the inside of her lip.

It was the first time he saw her falter. And it was only a minute show of emotion. Nothing drastic. She just squared her shoulders and finished her story.

Admirable. Curiously admirable.

"The children saw it all. Their family . . . sued the police department – and me – for wrongful death. And lost. But, I was still fired. Seems I should not have had physical contact with the man. Sure, I broke the rule, but I was trying . . . to get the gun." Her blue eyes met his. "You probably saw it on the news."

He nodded. "I didn't have all the facts, but it seemed the jury made the right call."

She smiled. "Spoken like a true attorney."

He couldn't help but return it with a smile of his own.

"My captain will verify the story." She motioned towards her resume on his desk and the circled name. "He fought for my job, but the powers that be were swayed by the money the man's family was throwing around. People die like that in this town everyday and no one notices until the cash is flashed. And they couldn't use that cash to save him in the first place." She sounded bitter.

He couldn't blame her.

Character judgment was always a strong suit for him, and he couldn't help but like Andy Sutherland.

"When can you start?"

She brightened considerably. "Tomorrow, if that's alright with you. What about salary?"

He named a figure that was considerably higher than she was expected. It certainly paid better to work for lawyers – the dreaded enemy to the police force – than it did for the PD.

All she did was nod once in acceptance.

He stood, and she followed suit, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Welcome to the firm, Ms. Sutherland. May God have mercy on you for dealing with Denny Crane."

He said it in such a deadpan tone that she couldn't help but laugh as she put her hand in his.

Of course, her handshake was just as firm as any man's.

"Mr. Sack . . .I do have one more request, if I can take up a moment of your time."

Uh, oh . . . "Certainly."

Andy returned to her seat and reached for a briefcase she'd carried in with her, removing a file. "I would like you . . . or someone at this firm . . . to represent me in civil court. The family is also filing a civil claim against me and the police department for damages."

"Doesn't the Boston PD have their own attorneys for this?" Carl took the file from her, curious.

She folded her hands in her lap. "They do. But, I am no longer employed by the Boston PD and feel I will have better representation if I pay for it myself. And I will. I should add, no matter how this case turns out, it will in no way shadow the quality of my work at your firm."

Carl didn't doubt that.

And, the entire file was in impeccable order. Transcripts from the criminal trial, as well as newspaper clippings and signed statements from all the officers involved were tucked neatly inside.

For some reason, he didn't expect anything less from her.

"We'll be glad to represent you, Ms. Sutherland . . ."

"Please. It's Andy. And, thank you. For the position and for taking my case."

She stood, and he was once again struck by her height. She could almost look him in the eye.

"After you work with Denny for a day, come talk to me, and we'll see if you're still grateful."

"Carl, you old rogue, you! I heard Andy's a woman!"


Andy turned just in time to see the two men who were arguing when she got off the elevator. The younger one still in the swimming get-up.

The older one clapped his hands together with childish glee. "Oh, Carl, you shouldn't have! Really! She's . . .gorgeous! She's beautiful! She's . . ."

"Tall," the younger one finished, watching her with his own predatory gleam in his eye despite his get-up.

It was true. She had a few inches on them both.

She could hear the frustration in Carl's voice as he spoke just behind her. "Ms. Sutherland – Andy - I'd like you to meet Alan Shore, partner."

"Charmed," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it, forgetting he was wearing a wet suit and fins on the seventh story of an office building.

Andy almost couldn't control the laughter that bubbled forth. "Likewise."

Carl shook his head and continued. "And this is . . ."

Denny had her other hand. "Denny Crane. At your service. Or, I guess you'll be at mine." He waggled his eyebrows at her as he mimicked his friend, kissing her other hand. "Ooooo. She smells like gardenias." He held her hand out for Alan. "Smell."

Andy had to let them know where she stood up front. It was always easier to draw the boundaries from the beginning. In a pleasant voice, she said, "Smell all you want, boys. It's as close as either of you will ever get."

Carl Sack almost choked behind her, covering up his mirth with a cough.

As quickly as she could, she retrieved her hand from Alan. "What's the deal with the swimming get up? There's not going to be another Noah's Ark flood is there?"

"Coast Guard Reserve training. Alan's scared of the water," Denny answered.

Alan looked taken aback. "I am not! It just . . . intimidates me."

"You're scared. Admit it."

Andy could see the return of the argument she witnessed earlier in the lobby. She interrupted. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have things to do."

Turning towards Carl, she was surprised to see a ghost of a smile still on his face.

At least someone here respected her.

"Thank you, again, Mr. Sack."

"My pleasure," Carl added.

"Especially for not slobbering all over my hand," Andy couldn't help but add with a wink.

Denny followed her out the door like a puppy. "I like my coffee black, and my women tall."

"It appears most women are taller than you, Mr. Crane," Andy commented.

"I think she insulted you, Denny," Alan awkwardly followed, flippers leading the way.

Denny put his hand to his heart. "A woman after my own heart. Harsh. Unforgiving. Are you that way in bed?"

"Guess you'll never find out." Andy answered.

Their voices faded away.

Carl had to smile.

Andy Sutherland might be alright after all.


Don't know if there is such a rule about no physical contact in dealing with hostage situations. Made that up! But, I could see some sort of dumb rule like that, so I went with it.