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She'd drawn the blinds to her office, effectively shutting out the goings on in the Murder Room. Somehow the walls seemed to be closing in on her. The discovery that Brenda Leigh Johnson was back in Los Angeles was startling. How long had she been back? And why? Last Sharon heard, Brenda had accepted the job at the Home Office in Washington DC. That had been over a year ago.

Why hadn't Brenda called? They weren't exactly best friends but they'd managed to establish some sort of a relationship in the months leading up to Brenda's departure from the LAPD. What Brenda had been through, what they'd both been through, had not been easy but it had had also helped and shape their futures. It had meant Brenda losing Major Crimes and Sharon gaining it. After that, they'd drifted apart.

Sharon rubbed at her temples. The dull ache seemed to have taken up permanent residence there and no amount of Tylenol appeared to be shifting it. Her shoulders and neck were stiff; the lack of sleep had seeped into her bones and her body objected. Outside the walls of her office her division was trying to piece together who was responsible for Oliver Grey's death.

Her mind drifted back to earlier that day. Rusty had been hiding his phone from her. Clearly there was something he didn't want her to see. She wondered what it was. It could very well be nothing, she knew that, but at the same time... Rusty did have history when it came to withholding things from her.

Sharon's eyes drifted to the phone on her desk. Brenda's number, or at least she assumed it was still Brenda's, sat under the number five, after Rusty, Emily, Ricky and Andy. She'd only have to press it to call her. What would she say? Did Brenda even want her to call?

She picked up the receiver, acutely aware that her hands had gone clammy, she felt strangely nervous as she went to press the number 5 when suddenly the door to her office flew open without warning. Sharon slammed down the phone and looked up. Julio looked flustered and excited all at the same time and she realised something had happened.

"Captain, we've found the silver SUV. And better yet, we've found the driver too."

Sharon stood and followed Julio out of her office. She felt the excitement; it crackled in the air. She didn't see Amy or Andy and assumed that they were with the driver. Provenza looked up as she entered the Murder Room.

"What have we got?" she asked, singling out the older lieutenant.

"Traffic pulled over a silver SUV ten miles from where Oliver Grey was last scene. Tao ran the plates and it matches with the car seen on the security footage from one of the shops," Provenza answered. "Flynn and Amy are with him. His name is Jason Scott Anderson."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the Murder Room, hesitating for a moment outside the media room. It was where she observed most of the interrogations and interviews but today she walked right past and instead knocked on the door to interview two before opening it. She stepped into the room and something in her demeanour changed when she laid eyes on the man sitting at the table across from detectives

She guessed Jason Scott Anderson to be about forty years old, maybe a bit younger. His face was difficult to read. His skin was tanned, almost burnt. It was the skin of someone who had spent a lot of time out in the sun without sunscreen. He had dark brown hair that was starting to thin near his temples and there were a few fine streaks of grey visible here and there. He wore a light blue t-shirt with a surf logo across the chest and khaki coloured pants.

"I'm Captain Sharon Raydor," she said, her voice calm yet full of authority. Her eyes fixed on him and he looked up. Staring back at her were steel blue eyes filled with defiance.

"Why am I here?" he demanded to know. "Why did you drag me in here like I'm some kind of criminal?"

Sharon made eye contact with Amy and the younger woman stood up. Without speaking Amy left the interview room and Sharon sat down in her place. She folded her hands on the cool surface of the table and slowly looked up.

"Mr Anderson, you are here because your car was seen near the house of Oliver Grey, the six year old boy who was kidnapped from his front yard yesterday morning," Sharon stated. "We also have footage of your car circling the neighbourhood where Oliver Grey lived."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She wasn't surprised to hear those words.

Andy reached into the folder that lay in front of him and pulled out two pictures. Both showed the silver SUV and its license plate. The pictures were grainy, the downside of security footage, but it was definitely the same car.

"We checked this license plate and it is registered to you. Can you tell us why you were driving it around this neighbourhood?"

"What day was that?" Anderson barked.

"This was the day before yesterday."

"I don't remember."

Sharon arched an eyebrow. "You don't remember where you were the day before yesterday?"

"Lady, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast!"

"So I guess you also don't remember where you were yesterday around the time Oliver Grey was kidnapped? Even though your car was seen in his street around the time he disappeared?"

Anderson shook his head and defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest. He glared at Sharon. His eyes were cold and distant. "Must be some other car."

Sharon felt frustration bubble up in the pit of her stomach. She just knew there was something shady about this guy. The pictures were clear. He had been in Oliver's street near his house when the boy was kidnapped. She knew that back in the Murder Room, the rest of her team were trying to prove just that.

She swallowed hard, "Is there any way that you can prove your whereabouts for the last two days?"

"How do you want me to do that?"

"Why don't you tell me," Andy challenged. He pushed a notepad and pen towards Anderson. "Start writing."

Andy stood up and Sharon moved to follow him. He held the door as she filed past him into the corridor. Sharon glanced over her shoulder and saw Anderson stare at the wall and then Andy closed the door.

"Are you ok?" he asked softly.

Sharon sighed. "I know he's involved somehow. I just know it."

She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was tired. She wanted to go home. Ricky and Rusty were there. She should be spending time with them, enjoying the fact her son was home for the weekend, and instead here she was breathing in the same air as the guy behind that door.

Sharon leaned with her back against the wall. She felt her skin crawl. "I don't know, Andy. There's something going on with Rusty. And Ricky, I really should be seeing him. He's only here till tomorrow. I just want to go home."

Andy studied her for a moment. "Then go." He put a hand on her arm. "Come on, I'll drive you."

"Andy..."

He looked like he was about to say something more, but the look on Sharon's face made him think better of it.

"No. Andy, no," she dismissed with a small shake of her head.

With that she turned and walked back towards her office leaving Andy standing in the corridor, mouth agape.

As Sharon walked back through the now empty Murder Room she was horrified to realise what had just happened. Did she snap at Andy for no obvious reason? She couldn't remember ever having done that before. Not like this, anyway. Sharon froze in her step and for a moment contemplated turning around and finding him to apologise but just as quickly changed her mind. Sharon closed her eyes, took a deep breath and walked into her office, picked up her purse from the back of the door and turned around to leave.

When she reached the elevator she looked over her shoulder and saw Andy watching her. He was on his way back to the murder room, she guessed. He didn't speak and Sharon looked away when the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside without saying goodbye.

Sharon stuck the key in the lock, opened the door and stepped into the condo. She heard the sound of the TV, it sounded like the credits of some kind of action TV show. Sharon took off her shoes and shrugged herself out of her blazer, leaving it on the table by the door, and walked into the living room. Rusty and Ricky were sitting on the couch and what she'd guessed were the credits to a TV show was actually the opening music to a movie.

"Hey, mom!" Ricky greeted her. "You're home early."

Sharon smiled. It was a genuine smile. Being here, seeing her sons, erased some of the frustration she'd felt. She circled the couch and sank down between her two children. Rusty scooted over a little to give her more space as he picked up one of the pillows, pressing it against his chest.

"How was your day?" Sharon inquired, her gaze fixing on Ricky. "Did you have a nice time catching up with Thomas?"

"He's getting married," Ricky asserted and shook his head in disbelief. "When did that happen? I mean, last time we saw each other he was still a kid and now..." He chuckled. "Definitely reminded me not to settle down just yet."

"Yeah?" Sharon arched an eyebrow in amusement. "What's wrong with getting married?"

"Nothing. I just can't imagine doing it at twenty-five, that's all."

Sharon smiled. Thomas was Ricky's oldest friend. They had been friends since kindergarten and had practically grown up together. After Ricky moved to San Francisco they only saw each other a few times a year. Hearing that Thomas, the little boy with the messy brown curls and torn jeans that had whizzed around her kitchen like some kind of small tornado, was about to get married was a harsh reminder that her own children were growing up fast.

"And you'd actually need a girl who's prepared to put up with you," Rusty chimed in. It resulted in a handful of popcorn being thrown his way and Sharon reminding Ricky he would be the one to clean that up.

Rusty ducked just in time to avoid the food hitting him in the face and chuckled. When he looked back up he found Sharon looking at him.

"How was your meeting with your friend yesterday?" She asked the question neutrally but her trained eye noticed the way Rusty's cheeks flushed a hint of pink. He averted his eyes and looked down at his hands. In the back of Sharon's mind alarm bells went off.

"Fine," Rusty muttered.

"Was it someone from school?"

"It was just a friend."

Rusty chewed the inside of his cheek, silently condemning Brenda for putting him in this position. He didn't want to lie to Sharon but Brenda had asked him not to tell. He couldn't bring himself to look at his mother because he knew Sharon would be able to see.

Sharon looked at her son but before she could ask anything else, Ricky stood up and announced he was getting a drink and did she want anything. When she softly answered she'd like a glass of wine, the moment was gone. She shot one last glance at Rusty but he was staring at the TV, doing his best to avoid her gaze.

Sharon leaned back into the pillows of the couch and gratefully accepted the glass Ricky brought her. She'd just taken a small sip when she heard and felt Rusty's phone vibrate. It lay between them, half tucked into the couch. Rusty reached for it and Sharon could see he'd received a test message but couldn't make out the name of the sender.

Rusty unlocked his phone and opened up the text. Brenda's message was short. I need to talk to you. Can we meet?

He wrote a quick reply back and hit send. Where and when?

Brenda's answer popped up moments later and Rusty read it twice before slipping his phone back in his pocket. He shot Sharon a sideways glance. She looked tired. Her eyes were focused on the TV but he didn't think she was watching. He put down the pillow he'd been clutching and shifted in his seat. It felt wrong, doing this. But he did it anyway.

"Is it alright if I go out?"

Sharon looked up in surprise. "Out?"

Rusty looked flustered. "I just thought that maybe you and Ricky would like to spend some quality time together. You two don't see each other much and you like, see me all the time so..." He faked a smile, trying to sound convincing. "And we're out of soda so I was going to get some."

Sharon's eyes narrowed. Every fibre of her body told her Rusty was hiding something. Here he was, asking to go out just before dinner after receiving a text message. And he wasn't even trying to hide it. Sure, he was trying to come up with an excuse but he wasn't trying very hard.

"OK," Sharon said and observed the relief on Rusty's face. "Go."

Rusty detected the hint of nerves in Sharon's voice. The way she spoke changed when she was anxious and right now, he knew she was trying to figure out what was going on. He held her gaze just long enough to reassure her he really was ok and then turned around, picked up his rucksack from behind the arm chair and swung it over his shoulder.

Brenda's apartment was only twenty minutes from the condo. Rusty parked up outside the building and got out of the car. The sprinklers were on, doing their best to keep the grass green, and he walked along the neatly kept lawn to the building's front door. It opened up into a small but brightly lit lobby with a single elevator, large mirrors on the wall and the ugliest painting of a vase full of flowers he'd ever seen.

He pressed the button for the third floor and watched as the doors slid shut. His heart pounded in his throat as the elevator started to move. A soft ping announced he'd arrived and the doors opened, revealing a corridor with white walls and a wooden floor. There were doors on either side, six in total. He walked down the corridor until he reached the last door. A little wooden white heart had been nailed to the door and elegant black letters spelt the words 'home sweet home'. He took a deep breath and knocked.

The door opened moments later and he looked up into Brenda Leigh Johnson's big brown eyes. She wore jeans and a simple white button down shirt. Her face lit up into a smile when she saw Rusty.

"Rusty, thank you for comin'." She opened the door a little further to invite him in and he stepped into the hallway. The wooden floor from the corridor outside continued here.

"Can I get you anything? Soda? Water?" She shot him a quick glance.

"An explanation."

Brenda momentarily froze before continuing further into the apartment. Rusty followed her. Brenda's apartment seemed to be a bit smaller than Sharon's condo. He saw a door to his right. It was slightly ajar, the light was on and the walls were tiled. Bathroom. He guessed that the door across from it would lead to the master bedroom.

By now he found himself standing in Brenda's living room. It was bright, with a high ceiling and tall windows that overlooked the street below. The wooden floors continued here but the living room was decorated with a stylish rug. A brown fabric sofa and two cream coloured arm chairs matched with an oak coffee table. A coat had been haphazardly thrown over the armchair of one of the chairs and Brenda's high heeled pumps had been discarded in the middle of the room. A stash of paperwork, reading glasses as well as an empty wine glass and a half eaten chocolate bar hid most of the table from view.

Brenda's kitchen was about the same size as Sharon's, with white units and matching white splash back tiles. There was a breakfast bar with two black leather bar stools and a small round dining table with four chairs. There were two dirty coffee mugs in the sink. An open bag of Cheetos lay next to the toaster.

Brenda turned around, her hand on the fridge door. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

Rusty shook his head. "I'm good. What I want to know is why you don't want me to tell my mom you're back in town."

"It's a long story, Rusty."

"I thought you two were friends? She helped you!" Rusty looked at the blonde woman. "Why don't you want her to know?"

Brenda sighed. "To be honest, I don't know."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you," Rusty said.

Brenda pulled a face. "Don't be too certain of that, Mr Beck."

"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night?"

"What?" Brenda's eyes widened. "I can't do that, Rusty."

"Why not?"

"Me coming for dinner would mean actually telling Sharon, don't you think?" She looked at the young man standing in her kitchen. He seemed so confident Sharon would be OK about her coming for dinner even though Brenda herself wasn't sure.

Rusty looked at Brenda and sighed. "Then tell her."

Brenda closed her eyes. This was not what she'd wanted to happen. First Provenza and Sykes, now this. Did she even know for sure Sharon didn't know she was here? She imagined Provenza to have told her by now. Or maybe he hadn't? Sharon hadn't called. Would she have, if she knew?

There really was only one way out of this and when she opened her eyes she found Rusty watching her.

"I had to lie to get out of the house tonight." He had not intended for it to sound sharp but it came out that way anyway. "Brenda, all I'm saying is that maybe you should just..."

"OK," she cut him off and raised her hands as if to surrender herself. "OK."

"What?" Rusty blinked.

"Dinner. Tomorrow night."

He couldn't believe it. "You're coming?"

Brenda nodded. "But you're telling Sharon," she said. For the briefest of moments he caught a glimpse of the woman who had talked to him in that interview room all those years ago. She was still there. Deputy Chief Johnson. The flash from the past was gone before he had chance to really process it and Brenda continued, "You're telling her all of it."

He didn't find Sharon in the living room when he came home. Ricky was watching TV and pointed in the direction of the corridor. Rusty quietly made his way over to his mother's bedroom and hesitated for a moment. The door was closed. He knocked and almost immediately he heard, "Come in."

He opened the door and found Sharon sitting at the end of the bed. She'd changed clothes and was wearing yoga pants and a t-shirt. She had removed her glasses and her face was make-up free. Sharon looked up when Rusty came in and their gazes locked.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She asked softly. "Why did you have to go out tonight?"

Rusty plucked at some invisible fluff on his shirt. "I... I don't want you to be mad." He couldn't bring himself to look at her and kept his eyes fixed on the carpet.

Sharon swallowed. So he had been withholding something from her. The realisation hurt. Up until now it had been just a suspicion but now he had confirmed it. She thought they'd reached the point in their relationship where he didn't need to lie to her anymore. Did he not trust her?

"Rusty, you can tell me anything," Sharon said calmly. She didn't get up but patted down on the comforter, inviting him to sit next to her. "You know that, don't you?"

"I know. It's just that... Someone asked me to keep a promise and I... I wanted to keep it." He peered up at Sharon through his eyelashes and she felt the sharp pain of hurt in her chest.

"The thing about being a friend is being able to trust someone, isn't it?" Rusty didn't sound too certain as he asked this question.

"And about them trusting you," Sharon added softly. She looked at her son. "So what's changed?"

"I asked them why they wanted me to keep their secret."

Sharon waited. She only realised she was holding her breath when the burning feeling in her rib cage grew almost unbearable.

"Brenda's back."

Sharon looked Rusty. "What?"

"Brenda. She's back in Los Angeles and..."

"How long have you known about this?" Sharon interrupted him. The undertone of hurt and anger in her voice was enough for Rusty to look up. The pain in her green eyes startled him.

"A couple of days," he admitted. "I saw her the other day and..."

"You saw her?" Sharon interrupted him and stood up. So this is what he had been hiding from her. "You spoke to Brenda?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal!" Rusty countered. "She texted me and asked if we could meet. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to..." He frowned when he saw the way Sharon looked at him. "Wait, you knew?"

"Provenza ran into her today."

The pieces fell into place. "So that's why she didn't mind me telling you. She guessed you knew." Rusty looked at her mother. "What's the big deal anyway? I thought she was your friend?"

Sharon turned her back on her son and sighed. "That's what I thought too." She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair. Pain was a treacherous thing. Not because of Brenda but because of Rusty. He had chosen to hide this from her and it hurt. They had worked so hard at him feeling like he could trust her. Part of her understood why he hadn't told her but it didn't make it any easier to accept.

"You should've told me."

"I'm sorry," Rusty apologised. "Mom, I'm sorry."

She turned to look at him. The look in her eyes was severe. "Rusty, is there anything else I need to know?"

"Yes, there is."

Sharon braced herself. "What is it?"

"Brenda's coming for dinner tomorrow night."