Her first case with the yard had been the murder of a little girl. Sally Donovan would never forget the girl’s lifeless body or the dead eyes of her killer as the booked him. She would also never forget the way Anderson had held her as she cried after they had finally closed that case, or the fact that he had never mentioned her tears to a soul.
It had started out innocently enough. A few pints down at the pub after work, a game of late night cards at the office, a couple of shared jokes over Lestrade’s pet “detective”. Somewhere along the way lines blurred and Sally had found herself up against a wall with Anderson’s tongue down her throat and his hands up her shirt.
She knew it wasn’t right. She knew she deserved better. Her mother, sister, shrink, girlfriends, and hell even Lestrade on one memorable occasion had all told her that very thing. Yet somehow she found herself coming back to him time and time again.
It wasn’t as if she believed him when he said he’d leave his wife. She knew that would never happen, no matter how much he claimed he hated her. It wasn’t even that she was in love with him; she knew herself too well to think it was that. It was just… he was somehow magnetic and she couldn’t seem to get away.
If she were to be completely honest with herself, Sally knew that part of it was rebellion. Perfect Sally Donovan had always done what was expected, what was right. She had worked hard, gotten good grades, excelled in sports, followed in her father’s footsteps and joined up with the Yard, jumped through every single hoop they put up for her. Anderson was her bit of deviation from that road.
Sally knew what the other Yarder’s thought of her. She had ears and eyes. Slut, skank, whore. It did her no good to carry on with Anderson. So many odds were already stacked against her and she really should know better. She had sworn to herself a thousand times that this was the very last time; but it never was. Every time he called she went, shame, guilt, lust, and excitement and mingling together in her stomach.