After a full day at the hardware store, Mike arrived home feeling both weary and content. He had helped a number of his regulars with their ambitious home projects providing grounding advice as well as tools and materials that matched their actual ability. The sense of gratitude and respect he received from his customers warmed him and it made the effort he took to explain every little step in great detail worthwhile.

Mike's dad had spent the entire day in the organized chaos that was his home office. Harry had been engrossed all evening putting the finishing touches on a presentation for the Millerton chamber of commerce regarding his plans for the new community hall. He paused at the sound of the front door opening and the shuffle of Mike's boots. He called out to Mike down the corridor.

"Mike, have you had dinner yet?" Harry's voice carried through the hallway.

"Yeah, I had a few drinks with the guys and grabbed a quick bite on the way home," Mike was in the mudroom, busy brushing dirt and wood filings from his work boots, his movements fluid and practiced.

Mike's gaze was already fixated on the basement door, his anticipation for some video gaming quickened his cleanup. All he wanted to do was to unwind in the virtual world before turning in for the night.

"Well, there's some leftover salmon in the fridge if you're still hungry," Harry offered.

Mike looked up and smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Dad. If it's alright, I'll pack it for lunch tomorrow."

"Already packed," came Harry's reply, his tone kind and understanding.

"Perfect, thanks dad." Mike's smile widened. He was beat from the day's work, and the thought of a good lunch for tomorrow lifted his spirits. "I'm just gonna head down to the man cave and get in some gaming."

As Mike started making his way downstairs, Harry decided to take a break from his work. He emerged from his office and walked over to where Mike was heading.

"All right, have a good night." Harry said with a warm smile. "I'm actually planning to head to bed early."

Mike looked up from his descent down the stairs. "Big day tomorrow?"

"Yeah, got that presentation for the Millerton bigwigs. Want to be on my best game." Harry nodded, his expression a mix of determination and anticipation.

"Well, I believe in you, Dad," he said, his voice infused with a genuine confidence. "You're gonna knock it out of the ballpark."

In an enthusiastic gesture, Mike pointed his fingers at his dad, a show of support and encouragement. Harry chuckled in response, feeling a surge of pride for his son's belief.

Just then, Mike's phone began to ring. He held up a finger to Harry, indicating that he would take the call. Harry nodded and retreated back to his office to finish up his presentation, content to let Mike handle his own business.

Mike glanced at the screen of his phone to see Emily's name displayed. A sense of surprise mixed with curiosity as he answered the call.

"Hey, Emily. What's up?"

"Mike." Emily replied, her voice carrying a hint of unease. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Not at all. It's just a bit unusual for you to call at this hour. Is everything okay?"

Emily let out a sigh, the sound heavy with emotions, "I'm okay, Mike," she said, her voice full of apprehension.

Mike furrowed his brows, concern creeping into his tone. "You sure? You sound like you have something on your mind."

Emily took a moment before continuing, her words coming out in a rush. "I've made a decision, Mike. I'm going to the police station tonight. I need to file a report about the incident with Steve."

Mike felt a mix of surprise, concern, and uncertainty. He wanted to say something comforting, to offer words of support, but the right words eluded him.

"Emily, I'm here for you." he finally said after a short while.

Emily's voice gained confidence as she spoke. "Thank you, Mike. I really appreciate that. And there's actually something I need from you."

Mike's grip tightened around his phone as he listened intently. "Of course, Emily. Anything."

Emily's words flowed, her tone growing more purposeful. "I was wondering if you could send me the photos you took of the damage at my shop, before you did the cleanup and repairs. I was so shocked over the whole affair I didn't think to take any photos myself. It would really help to have those photos as evidence when I talk to the police."

Mike nodded, though Emily couldn't see it through the phone. "Absolutely, Emily. I'll send them right after we hang up."

A relieved sigh escaped Emily's lips. "Thank you, Mike. You have no idea how much this means to me. There's something more if I may." Emily added quickly before Mike could respond.

Emily hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I know it's a lot to ask, but could you also write up an estimate for how much the repairs and cleanup would have cost? Including both materials and labor."

"Consider it done. I'll make sure to include all the details."

Emily's voice was laced with gratitude as she spoke. "Thank you, Mike. It really means the world to me."

As Emily hurriedly said her goodbyes and hung up, Mike was left in a moment of reflection. He hadn't anticipated the weight of the call just as he was about to unwind for the night.

Mike could see the door to his dad's office open. He started back up the stairs, his steps heavy with the weight of Emily's revelations.

"Hey, Dad," Mike greeted as he knocked gently on the door jamb of his dad's office.

Harry was already looking his way, concern etched on his face. "Everything okay?" Harry asked.

Mike's shoulders sagged, a sigh escaping his lips. "Yeah, that was Emily on the phone."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry but I overheard a bit of the conversation. Is everything alright?"

Mike found himself a bit at a loss for words, his thoughts muddled by the unexpected turn of events. "Yeah, Emily's going to the police station tonight," he confirmed, his tone a mix of uncertainty and empathy.

Harry motioned to a spare chair next to his desk. "Come, sit down. Tell me about it."

Mike sank into the offered chair, his gaze fixed on his hands in his lap. "She's filing a report about what happened with Steve," he explained, "She asked me to send her the photos I took of the damage before I fixed it. She wants to show the police."

Harry's expression shifted from concern to understanding as he listened. "That's a reasonable thing for Emily to ask for. Having the hard evidence there before her would make it a lot easier to provide all the details to the police." Harry sat closer to Mike, "How did she sound?"

"Stressed," Mike replied, his voice tinged with his own concern. "Lost and out of sorts, you know?"

Harry reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Mike's shoulder. "And how are you feeling about all this?"

Mike's gaze met his father's, his gaze distant. "I'll be fine...I just want to help, but I don't even know how to feel about all of this. I mean, I know what Steve did was wrong, but I also just wish that Steve didn't do such a thing in the first place. I just hate how everything has escalated to this point. You know?"

Mike's frustration and conflict manifested in the way he crossed his arms, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the situation. Emily's call had left him with a mix of emotions, and he couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled within him.

"I can't even fathom what's going to happen," Mike muttered under his breath. He let out a sigh of exasperation. "I'm really uncomfortable with the idea that Steve might get into serious trouble with the cops," he admitted.

His arms fell to his sides before he brought up his hand to his forehead. Steve had been a respected figure who had held a place of reverence in his memories. A sense of betrayal at the admiration he had directed at Steve unsettled him further.

"I mean, he was the cool older brother that all the boys wanted to be like growing up. He always had a bunch of jokes ready to fire for every occasion, all the girls loved him, he made everyone around him feel special." Mike explained, justifying his feelings towards Steve in the past.

"But then I think about Emily," he continued, his voice more solemn. "She's an innocent victim in all of this. Steve did such a God awful thing to her."

Emily was not only a friend; she was also a pillar of support in his life, someone he regarded as a big sister. The idea of her suffering at the hands of Steve was painful for him to contemplate.

"I can't stand seeing her like this, it's just not right." he declared, his voice unwavering. "I need to support Emily in whatever way I can. She's going through such a difficult time, and it's the very least I can do."

Turning to his father, Mike met Harry's gaze, his eyes conveying a mixture of determination and vulnerability. "I'm going to be alright," he assured, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Harry's encouraging gesture—a gentle shake of Mike's shoulder with his hand, offered a comforting reassurance.

"You know, maybe you can consider accompanying Emily to the police station. She may appreciate the support, but of course, if that feels like too much for her, maybe you could at least drive her there. It's a smaller gesture but it's one less thing she has to worry about when she's dealing with all of this."

Harry's eyes met Mike's, his expression encouraging. "And you won't be alone in this either. I can come along to lend some support as well if you'd like."

Mike's spirits lifted at his dad's gentle guidance. "Yeah, it's a good idea for me to go with Emily. I think I can handle it myself, but thanks anyway dad, you're amazing."

"I know you can handle it, but just know that I'll be there quicker than a flash of lightning if you call me."

Mike couldn't help but chuckle at his father's well meaning zeal. "Alright dad, I hear you loud and clear."

The tension seemed to ease as their conversation transitioned to more practical matters.

"Dad, I know you're a bit of a whizz with the computer, can you help me draft up an invoice for the work I did at Emily's shop?" Mike asked hopefully.

"Of course, easy peasy! Let me get a spreadsheet open, and you can list out all the work you carried out for Emily."

Together, father and son meticulously detailed the repair work, material costs, and labor charges. As the spreadsheet took shape, Mike felt a renewed sense of purpose. It wasn't just about moving on from the incident; it was about making sure that the repercussions of the events that had transpired was acknowledged and the consequences dealt with properly.

Once the document was ready, Mike sent the photos and the spreadsheet to Emily, adding a personal touch to his message. He wanted her to know that he would be there physically by her side during this difficult journey.

—

The drive to Emily's shop was a reflective one for Mike. He mentally braced himself for the potential challenges that lay ahead at the police station, his mind conjuring up images of stern-faced officers in a cold, clinical setting. However, before he could fully immerse himself in his thoughts, the familiar sights of Sommerfield shopping street came into view. The orange glow of the street lamps bathed the deserted street in an eerie yet somewhat comforting light.

Parking behind Ted's old pickup, Mike felt a sense of reassurance, knowing that Ted and Sally were there too. Exiting his vehicle, Mike glanced through the glass shopfront, where he saw Emily engaged in conversation with Ted and Sally. As he walked into the shop, their quiet conversations ceased, and they turned to greet him.

"Hey, Mike," Emily greeted him, her voice carrying a mixture of appreciation and tension.

Mike nodded subtly in response, turning to Ted and Sally, and offering them a subdued smile, a gesture to show he was here to support them all.

"Hey Emily, thanks for waiting for me, I'm here to help in any way," Mike explained gently. "I understand you might prefer fewer people around, but I thought I could at least show my face and offer some support. If you're comfortable with it, I'd be more than happy to accompany you to the police station. Whatever you want."

Emily's expression brightened, and she responded with a comforting smile, a silent acknowledgment of Mike's kindness.

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"Thank you, Mike," she said appreciatively. "I'm really glad to have you here. I didn't want to make a fuss, but your presence means a lot."

"We've just been going through what we were going to say at the police station." Sally informed, "Just to prepare ourselves for whatever happens."

The weight of the situation hung in the air, but the group was determined to face it together. A silence fell as they prepared mentally, and Sally turned to Emily.

"Emily, are you ready to go?" Sally asked.

Emily met Sally's gaze, hesitating for a moment before taking a deep breath, summoning her inner strength, and offering a determined nod.

"Okay," Sally confirmed, setting their plan into motion. "I'll drive you to the police station in your car. Mike and Ted can drive separately, and we'll meet there."

Sally then turned to Mike, her expression full of worried preoccupation.

"Do you know the way to the police station?" Sally asked.

Mike nodded solemnly, a touch of weariness in his response.

"Yeah, I do, quite well. Unfortunately."

Sally gently patted Mike's arm, conveying empathy and understanding, a subtle gesture of support as they all head to their cars, ready to face the challenging moments ahead.

===

Chapter X: Police station

============

Sergeant Janet Matheson sat alone in the small Sommerfield police station, her surroundings quiet save for the hum of the coffee maker. She poured herself another cup, well aware that this was her third for the night, a ritual she found hard to break. The sudden jingle of the front bell as the station's doors swung open caught her attention. It was an unusual time for visitors, and even more unusual were the faces she recognized leading the way—Ted and Sally who she knew as a well respected couple of the community.

The Sergeant had often exchanged friendly conversations with Sally and Ted at their grocery store. The couple had always been a strong presence in the town, known for looking out for their fellow residents with genuine warmth and care. The Sergeant couldn't help but wonder what might have prompted this late-night visit, hoping it wasn't something unpleasant that had happened to them.

Setting down her half-empty cup, she approached the counter with a welcoming smile, ready to hear what the visitors had to say.

"Evening folks." she began, her voice friendly. "How can I be of assistance? Or did you just drop by for a chat?"

Emily, looking anxious and on edge, stepped forward, attempting to voice the words she had rehearsed, but she stumbled on the first syllables, her anxiety momentarily silencing her. The Sergeant's brow furrowed in concern as she turned to Sally and Ted, silently seeking clarification.

Seeing Emily's distress, Sally quickly enveloped her in a comforting embrace, offering the much-needed warmth and reassurance that Emily sought.

"Sergeant," Sally began, addressing the Sergeant with a seriousness that belied her usual friendly demeanor, "Emily here would like to file a report regarding some damage done to her pastry shop by her husband, Steve Williams."

The Sergeant felt a wave of bewilderment. While she wasn't intimately familiar with the details of Emily's relationship, she had always known them as a seemingly loving couple who were active in the community. Memories of seeing them joking with each other during Sunday church services and at Emily's pastry shop flashed in the Sergeant's mind, making the situation all the more perplexing.

Maintaining her professional composure, the Sergeant started asking for specifics, trying to piece together the incident.

"Could you provide more details about the incident? When did this happen and what was the extent of the damage?" the Sergeant inquired, focusing her questions towards Sally, who appeared to be more prepared to discuss the matter.

However, Mike stepped up, taking the initiative.

"I was there in the aftermath of the incident and I saw firsthand the damage that Steve caused." he stated confidently. "I've got photos of the damage, as well as a cost estimate for the repairs and cleanup." Mike took out his phone, waving it in front of him.

The Sergeant regarded Mike with a seriousness that briefly flickered with recognition, recalling past encounters when the teenaged Mike who had been summoned to the police station to answer for and to explain his involvement with several acts of misconduct. Quickly pushing aside those memories, she turned her attention back to Emily.

"Emily, I would like to talk to you in my office to get all the information about the incident." she explained, sensitive to Emily's emotional state. "Emily, are you able to do that?"

Emily, tightly clutching her shawl, looked up at the Sergeant, her eyes trembling but filled with a fragile resolve.

"Yes, I can." she managed to say, her voice soft but determined.

The Sergeant nodded, then turned to address Sally, Ted, and Mike.

"You folks should wait outside while I talk to Emily." the Sergeant instructed. She then directed her words towards Mike. "If I need to ask you anything, I'll come out to get you. Please don't go too far from the waiting room."

Mike nodded eagerly, showing his willingness to assist Emily in any way he could.

The Sergeant began leading Emily towards her office, but Emily hesitated, casting a pleading look back at Sally. Without hesitation, Sally rushed forward to comfort her, their hands finding solace in each other's grasp. Sally then turned to the Sergeant.

"Sergeant, would it be okay if I accompany Emily during the interview? I promise I won't be disruptive to your questions." Sally inquired, her gaze determined and hopeful.

The Sergeant glanced at Emily and Sally, their united defiance evident in their unflinching expressions. The Sergeant let out a soft sigh, offering a reserved smile in response.

"Yes, I'll allow it."

The two women followed the Sergeant into her office, Sally casting one final glance back at Ted as they shared a wordless, reassuring exchange just as the heavy door of the Sergeant's spartan office closed behind her.

—

Ted and Mike sat down in the stark waiting room, occupying adjacent plastic chairs, their gazes seemingly fixed on nothing, lost in a mix of worry and anticipation. The room, adorned with pale beige walls, lacked any semblance of comfort, and a haphazard pile of outdated homemaking magazines lay scattered across the low coffee table before them. Mike aimlessly fiddled with his phone, but the usual video games and sport news felt hollow today.

His eyes scanned the room, familiar yet slightly altered since his last visit—a vending machine now perched on the opposite wall, standing beside a neglected potted plant. The last time he had occupied the very same seat was during his high school years, an unpleasant memory of being falsely accused of shoplifting from the Sommerfield pharmacy. That experience still ignited a storm of anxiety within him.

A sudden surge of restless agitation surged through Mike, prompting him to rise abruptly from his seat, narrowly avoiding knocking his shins against the coffee table. He stomped over to the vending machine, his hand pressing hard against the glass as he scrutinized the subpar chocolate bars and jerky that seemed to be coated in salt rather than flavor.

Ted observed Mike, noticing the tension building within him, manifested in his clenched fist.

"You want something from there, Mike? I've got some spare change in my wallet." Ted gently inquired.

Mike shot a quick look at Ted, shaking his head in apparent disinterest.

"Nah, there's nothing good in there," he muttered, his tone tinged with annoyance. "Why can't they stock something decent like, some pop or juice."

"You thirsty? I've got a bottle of water in my pickup if you want it."

Mike declined once more, his agitation evident in his rapid, uneven breathing.

"I'm not thirsty, I'm just so fucking frustrated. I wish there was more I could do." Mike confessed.

Ted's hand rested on the back of the chair next to him.

"Come here, take a seat," Ted encouraged, his voice kind but firm. "We're exactly where we need to be, doing what we need to be doing. We can't rush this process, it's not up to us. We're here for Emily, and she will decide how this plays out."

Mike complied, sinking back onto the chair, his head hanging low, overwhelmed by the weight of the circumstances.

"We are exactly where we need to be. Patience is a virtue." Ted reaffirmed.

Mike, with his emotions near the surface, reacted passionately, his voice raised with frustration.

"I'm sorry Mr Jones, but that is a load of bullshit." he muttered, regret tinged in his voice. "I really failed Emily by not pushing her to go to the police earlier. I excused Steve's actions, thinking it would all go away. I'm such an idiot."

Ted's hand found its way to Mike's back, a genuine attempt to offer comfort and understanding.

"It's alright Mike, we all make mistakes. That's how we learn." Ted's voice carried a hint of bittersweet recollection.

Mike looked at Ted with confusion on his face, unsure of what to make of Ted's chastisement.

Ted, sensing a misunderstanding, quickly spoke to clarify.

"I'm sorry Mike, I didn't mean to call you out at all. Let me share a story with you."

Ted leaned in, his voice taking on a gentle tone as he began to share a tale from his past. In his mind's eye, Ted conjured up memories of events that had shaped him, of people and moments that had come and gone in his life.

"When I was around your age, maybe a little younger, back when my father was still alive, I was just the apprentice at the grocery store," Ted began, his words weighed down by the burdens of the past. "I used to handle the late shifts, you know, due to school, baseball, and because my dad preferred the tavern over spending time with me."

Mike listened intently, sensing the weight of bitter memories that colored Ted's words. Empathy welled up within him as he saw the pain etched onto Ted's face.

Ted's gaze seemed to pierce through time as he continued to speak. "You know, my mother wasn't around when I was growing up," Ted began, his tone reflective. "She passed away before I even started school. It was just me and my dad, and let me tell you, my dad was one mean son of a bitch."

Mike struggled to find the right words to respond to Ted's revelations, but he could see a mix of pain and fondness in Ted's expression, a testament to the complex nature of their shared histories.

"One evening, just about five minutes before closing time, a group of older youths came into the store," Ted recounted. "I could smell trouble from a mile away. Their demeanor was off, posture slouched, eyes avoiding contact, too eager to look nonchalant. I noticed their driver waiting right outside, engine still running."

"That's trouble, Mr. Jones." Mike interjected, speaking from his own experience.

Ted nodded in agreement, his face reflecting the weight of the situation.

"It was like fielding a bad hop in a game," Ted continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "I felt overwhelmed and helpless, trouble barrelling towards me. And you know what? It all played out exactly as I expected. Those boys grabbed a case of beer without paying and sauntered right out of the store. I was fucking livid."

Mike's eyes widened in astonishment.

"They were disrespecting my store. My father's store," Ted corrected himself. "That store was our livelihood, the embodiment of my mother's hard work before she died from bowel cancer. You bet I was goddamn angry. I grabbed the last guy, thinking I'd give him a piece of my mind."

Ted shifted in his seat to face Mike directly, his fingers drawing an invisible line down the center of his face.

"Do you see this?" Ted asked, indicating the slightly crooked alignment of his nose. "The guy sucker-punched me and broke my nose. It's never going to be straight ever again."

Mike leaned in closer, finally noticing the subtle misalignment of Ted's nose. A small smile crept across Mike's face as he took in the anecdote, appreciating the shared experience.

Ted playfully adjusted his own nose as if trying to straighten it.

"But you know what the worst part was, apart from getting an impromptu rhinoplasty? It was the shame, the fear I felt." Ted confessed, his voice carrying the weight of that long-ago night. "I thought that I was a failure for not stopping those guys from stealing from the store. And that's exactly what they are, a bunch of low life thieves. But in my infinite wisdom, I decided not to mention a word of it to my father. I couldn't bear the shame of being violated in such a reckless way, I felt that he wouldn't understand me. I was worried I would actually get into more trouble with my father if I told him. So I cleaned up the mess, put twenty bucks in the till to cover the theft, and pretended nothing had happened."

"But your nose..." Mike started to say.

"I told my dad I got hit with a baseball playing with my friends," Ted replied with a chuckle.

Mike laughed, imagining how unbelievable that excuse must have sounded.

Ted's laughter joined Mike's. "Well, back in the day, baseball was a violent sport, not too dissimilar to football. It was pretty common for everyone to break their ribs and noses even when playing a casual game of baseball with friends." Ted winked knowingly. He cherished the faint smile that he could see creep upon Mike's face.

"And you know what, Mike?" Ted added, his tone reflecting a sense of closure. "The incident did pass, swept neatly under the rug, and everyone else moved on. But I felt like a complete schmuck, taking a broken nose and being out of pocket twenty bucks for my trouble. That's the regret I've carried with me all this time. I just hope I can pass on a sliver of experience to those closest to me."

"Thanks Mr. Jones, definitely appreciate the yarn and the lesson." Mike said, his voice sincere. "I'm a simple, seat-of-the-pants kind of guy, and I've crashed and burned more than a few times."

"Hey, what did I say about living and learning?" Ted responded, his tone gentle, "You've gotta make the occasional mistake to really learn. But it's also good to listen to those who've made the mistakes before. You're a good kid Mike. You've got your head in the right place, and that goes a long way. Your dad's a good man too who's been around the block a few times. Don't be afraid to ask him for guidance. He's always got your six."

Ted stood up and walked over to the vending machine, his curiosity getting the better of him. Like Mike had done previously, Ted surveyed the snacks, but he passed over the usual junk food at the top rows. His eyes finally settled on something intriguing, tucked away in the very bottom left corner. With a childlike excitement, Ted fished out a few coins from his old jeans and fed them into the machine. The machine whirred, dropping its treasure – a packet of Old Dutch potato chips. Ted triumphantly showed the packet to Mike, as if he'd just won a jackpot.

"Want a chip?" Ted offered, his enthusiasm infectious. "These ones are the real McCoy, the kind you write home about."

Mike couldn't help but laugh at Ted's childlike excitement. He reached into the packet, pulling out a perfectly golden chip, its surface the same size as a large potato. Mike raised an eyebrow, trying hard not to appear overly impressed, but as he bit into it, his skepticism vanished. He nodded in approval, acknowledging that Ted's enthusiasm was well-founded.

Ted was pleased that his recommendation had hit the mark. He sat back down next to Mike, savoring a chip from the packet himself.

"Really good, isn't it?" Ted asked, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's definitely something to write home about," Ted muttered to himself, his voice full of contentment. "The only time I've had a better potato chip was the ones Sally's mother used to make when I was still dating her, a long time before Becky was born. Every chip Sally's mother cooked was a slice of potato heaven."

With an exaggerated chef's kiss motion, Ted punctuated his memory. Mike laughed once more, feeling grateful for Ted's ability to bring a touch of lightness to the cold and unwelcome atmosphere of the police waiting room.

Time seemed to fly by as Mike and Ted finished all but a final chip that both men were too polite to take. The moment of shared enjoyment was comforting to the both of them yet it was all too brief.

Ted turned to Mike, his mind shifting from snacks to a different matter. He sought advice and ideas for a home project he had in mind, the conversion of the spare bedroom into a study for Sally, a place where she could conduct her writing. Just as Mike began to offer his ideas about the sort of setup Sally might find helpful to organize and inspire her writing, the doors to the Sergeant's office opened with a hesitant nudge.

The sergeant held the door open as Emily emerged, stumbling back into the waiting room. Her eyes were swollen from tears and her hand clutching a crumpled tissue. Sally was right by her side, supporting her with an arm around her shoulder as she led Emily to a nearby chair.

Ted looked at Sally, his brows silently asking for an update on what had transpired. Sally responded with a subtle head tilt and closed lips, signaling that she didn't want to discuss it at the moment.

The Sergeant leaned against the doorframe, her attention now focused on Mike.

"Mike Sullivan, can you come into my office?" she called out gravely, "I want to ask you a few questions about the photos and your assessment of the damage."

Mike's gaze shifted over to Emily who was sobbing rhythmically. Emily managed to lift her head, locking eyes with Mike. Mike's presence and the knowledge that he would provide corroborating evidence to her account of the damage caused to her shop gave her comfort. A faint glimmer of strength returning to Emily's expression as she gratefully nodded at Mike, urging him on. With a reassuring smile, Mike stood up, taking a deep breath as he prepared to face the questioning.

Before Mike made his way towards the office, Ted called out to him, catching his attention.

"Mike, you're going to be okay?" Ted asked.

"Yes sir, I believe I'm gonna be fine." With those words, he headed towards the doorway, disappearing into the Sergeant's office. Sergeant Matheson cast one final look at Emily, before closing the door behind her.

Ted moved to sit back down next to Emily, with Sally on the other side, surrounding Emily with the solidarity that she silently yearned for.

Ted extended the packet with the final potato chip towards Emily, offering a small distraction. Emily sniffed and shook her head, a look of gratitude in her eyes, even though she couldn't express it fully in the moment. Ted then turned to Sally, offering her the chip. As Sally saw the Old Dutch packet, it reminded her of the earlier picnic with Becky, bringing a warm smile to her face. She too quietly declined the chip, her appreciation however was evident in her expression.

Sally felt a warmth deep within her, triggered by her connection with Ted that seemed to radiate from their very souls. She was grateful for the bond they shared, the kind of closeness that allowed them to be there for each other for all their difficult moments, and now, to extend that love and support to someone as dear to them as Emily.