Sorry for the ridiculously long hiatus ... I started a new job and have been struggling to find time to keep up with different hobbies. I appreciate all the amazing reviews that people have left for the earlier chapters and hope that you enjoy this new one!
Sharon sighed as she all but plopped herself into Amy Sykes' vacated chair. It was now Thursday afternoon, and she had just gotten back from her lunch date with Darnell Williams. He had taken her to a swanky new restaurant downtown whose prices had given even her refined sensibilities pause. It had been a trying lunch, as Darnell Williams - J.D., M.B.A. - had clearly been pulling out all the stops to impress her. In a reversal of her last date with Lyle Madsen, he had done much of the talking, which had been mostly about himself. She had tried to get in some points from her painstakingly crafted cover, but it had been difficult.
"Ok, let's go over it," Sykes addressed the room. She had taken to leading their post-mortem sessions on each date. "Captain, could you share your thoughts?"
"Well," Sharon began, crossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. She had the uncharacteristic urge to spin in the chair, but found the strength to refrain. "He has a very healthy ego."
The team digested her brief statement in silence. Sanchez leaned forward to prop his elbows on his desk and gave her a serious look.
"It's okay, ma'am," he told her. "You can say it. He was a self-absorbed prick."
Sharon slanted a glance in his direction with a small half-smile. Her back-up had been Sanchez and Sykes this time, who had been situated at a nearby table and privy to the entire conversation. At the front of the room, Sykes gave a rather unladylike snort.
"Yeah," she said. "Gotta go with Julio here, Captain. He didn't quite fit my vision of the perp, either – he was too self-assured, too proud of his own accomplishments."
"Well, maybe he was covering for something," Flynn spoke up. He was reclining in his chair with his fingers intertwined behind his head. "I mean, we've profiled that this guy likely seeks out women who are professionally accomplished, and yet feels insecure in their company. To regain dominance, he rapes then murders them. This could still be the guy – he might just be covering his own insecurities by putting on a self-assured front."
"You know something about that, eh Flynn?" Provenza called back to him, not trying very hard to hide his snigger. Andy shot him a sour look and was about to retort when Sharon stepped in.
"Andy has a good point," she soothed. Andy put a toothpick in his mouth and smiled triumphantly at Provenza, raising his eyebrows in a manner that toddlers everywhere would recognize as 'See? Mommy loves me best.' Provenza just rolled his eyes.
"It's possible that Darnell is an insecure man," Sharon continued, shooting a look toward Flynn that indicated she had seen everything. "He did seem to be trying very hard to impress me. To be honest, my gut says that he is over-confident rather than insecure, but I can't say definitively."
"Well," Tao put in. "He didn't try to set up a second date right way, like Lyle did."
Amy gave him a considering look.
"Yeah, but a lot of guys wouldn't. There is that whole 'three days rule' thing to consider. Plenty of guys still do that – 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' or something like that?"
"There is that rule," Sanchez allowed, nodding at Amy. "It's a dumb rule, though. I would think that he'd have figured that out by now."
Sharon sighed and briefly rubbed the skin between her eyebrows. It had been a really long time since she last went on a date prior to the sudden flurry she had experienced this week.
"So, would you say that someone who is rather full of themselves would use the 'three day rule' or someone who is insecure?"
Sanchez and Sykes responded quickly.
"The former."
"Full of himself."
"Ok," Sharon said. "So we're leaning toward over-confident. Did we get anything else from his background check? Anything suspicious now that we've had the chance to dig a little deeper?"
"Not much," Tao supplied. "He really does have a law degree and an MBA, both from Stanford. He really does do a fair amount of pro bono work downtown, which he can afford to do as he is making over $300K annually. He's won some high profile cases – everything he said today checks out. He may be over-confident, but he was not exaggerating."
"Still doesn't mean he wasn't compensating," Flynn chimed in again. "Plenty of accomplished people are still insecure."
He shot a look at Provenza, as if daring him to say something. Provenza put his hands up in mock surrender.
"Well, we can't cross him off as a suspect," Sharon concluded. "But I do think he no longer fits in our pool of primary suspects."
"Agreed," Provenza said, letting his chair snap upright. He shot a look at Flynn. "And regardless of whether he turns out to be an insecure nit or an egotistical bastard, he doesn't have much time to make a date for Saturday. And if he doesn't make a date for Saturday, he would be breaking his pattern."
"It's also possible that I wasn't successful in drawing him in," Sharon threw out to the room. "He could be the one, but is now focused on someone else."
"Maybe," Flynn granted, though his face said otherwise. "But if we want to go down that rabbit hole, it's also possible that none of these guys are the perp or that he wasn't even there on Monday night. I'm not sure it matters at this point – my money is still on Madsen. Did we ever get a hit back on his prints?"
"His prints aren't in the system," Sanchez told him with a small shrug.
"Of course they aren't," Flynn responded sourly. "Do we really think that he's a claims adjuster?"
"I'm not really sure why he would make that up," Amy reasoned. "The most effective lies are heavily based in truth. If he is already making up his name, why would he need to lie about his job? It would be easier to keep most details the same."
"I've already started a search for male health insurance claims adjusters in the LA area," Tao informed them. "However, since we have nothing aside from his physical features to narrow the search with, I'm not sure how much help it is going to be. I'm including the names 'Lyle' and 'Madsen' plus variations of those names as signifiers, but it's still a long shot."
"Well, it's something to start with, at least," Sharon reassured him. She stood and crossed over to Mike's desk. "Did we ever hear back from George or Ryan?"
"Let me check," Tao said slowly, turning back to his computer. "Ok, we just got a response from Ryan thirty minutes ago. He would like to take you out to dinner next week, if you are available." He looked up at Sharon expectantly.
"Well, that doesn't fit our killer's timeline," she said. "Let's hold off on a response for now. He doesn't seem overly eager. Maybe tomorrow you can put something together like we did for Larry. If all goes well, we'll have our killer this weekend, and I can cancel with both of them. Nothing from George?"
"Not yet. He doesn't seem to be too eager either."
"Ok, then. I've got dinner with Jack tonight, so depending on how that goes, I think we have our suspect."
"I thought you were divorcing him."
That comment came from Rusty, who was standing just inside the Major Crimes bullpen. Sharon closed her eyes briefly. Rusty had come a long way from not showing any interest in the lives of others – in fact it could be said that he took too much of an interest. Particularly in hers. And apparently this development had not come with a filter. Sharon turned to face him, catching Julio's amused glance along the way.
"This is a different Jack," Sharon told him, somewhat testily. "And thank you for pointing that out for everyone, just now."
Rusty gave her a half amused, half apologetic smile and shrugged his shoulders. He then made his way towards his cubicle. Although finished with high school, he was currently looking for a job, and he found he enjoyed the familiarity of the murder room as a place to work. It was odd – at first he hated it here because they were always discussing murder and other uplifting topics, which he couldn't quite tune out. Then, he'd hated it because of the protection detail and this place had come to symbolize the epitome of lost liberty. Yet somehow, after all that, it had morphed into a place of comfort for him. At least for the most part. He stopped the trek to his cubicle right in front of the murder board.
"So these are the guys you've been dating, huh?" he asked, with a heavy dose of suspicion. He scrutinized the faces on the board one by one.
"Well, not all of them," Sharon replied, somewhat defensively. She paused for a moment, replaying her comment in her head. "Not that there are more. That I'm dating, I mean. What I meant was that I haven't been on dates with all of these men in my undercover work. Just a few of them."
Sharon finished her words with a note of miserable desperation in her voice. Rusty had turned and was giving her a somewhat baffled expression, which was mirrored by Provenza. Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. She prided herself on being a fairly well-spoken and even-tempered individual, even in the worst of circumstances. Yet, something about this whole operation just kept bringing out her inner awkward. As she dropped her hand, she caught a glimpse of Flynn's indulgent expression. He was grinning at her goofily … the kind of expression you'd give a cute puppy that had just tripped over its own feet and done a somersault. Great, she thought, that's exactly what I need right now – my lieutenant thinking that I'm cute.
Rusty had turned back to the board while she was distracted by her own embarrassment.
"So which one's your primary suspect?" he asked.
"Rusty," Sharon sighed. "You know we can't discuss an open investigation."
Rusty rolled his eyes.
"Its not like I can't hear everything you say from over there, anyways," he grumbled, not quite under his breath. He turned and finished his trek to the cubicle, missing Sharon's eye-roll. Flynn tried to hide his smile at the exchange – the mother-son eye-rolls were particularly amusing. He was pretty sure that when Rusty came into their lives, the eye-roll was not his go-to expression of annoyance – he'd gotten that entirely from living with the Captain.
"So, you're getting a divorce?" Sykes asked perkily.
"Sykes …" Provenza moaned, placing a hand against his forehead before rubbing it over his eyes.
"What I am," Sharon began, "is not discussing that with you. Now. Where were we?"
At the Captain's return to composure, the team shook off the momentary distraction and returned to the case.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hours later, Sharon was seated at a table across from Jack Richter in a small Italian restaurant, perusing the menu. She had to admit that she was impressed with his choice – it was nothing fancy, but had a wonderful ambience and had good food, if the smells from the plates going by were any indication. She sensed that her dinner partner was watching her, and looked up with a smile.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I was just really surprised that you were interested in a second date. And yet, here we are."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Sharon responded, deciding to go with honesty. "You were one of the few 'dates' from the other night that I actually enjoyed."
"Well, that is gratifying to hear," Jack accepted with an easy smile. "I felt the same way."
He held her gaze until she broke the connection by looking back down at the menu.
"The agnoletti here is particularly good," Jack offered. "I could order us a bottle of chardonnay to go with it."
Sharon glanced at the description of the agnoletti, but wasn't too excited about the heavy cream sauce.
"I was thinking about the chicken marsala, actually. Maybe with a glass of burgundy?"
Her date smiled graciously and caught the waitress' eye, putting in their order. As her menu was taken away, Sharon propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her interlocked fingers, favoring Jack with an almost coquettish smile.
"So, tell me, Jack," she began. "Tell me about yourself."
He grinned easily, leaning back in his chair.
"There's not much to tell, really," he began. At her dubious expression, he gave a short laugh.
"Alright then – the Cliff's Notes on Jack Richter. Born and raised here in LA, IT professional by day, builder of the bouteille impossible by night. Can be found in nature exploring the wilds of California or showing off his culinary exploits in the kitchen. A lover of cars, good wine, and of course, good women."
He finished his last words with a smile and a cheeky wink that caused Sharon to snort a laugh before she could control herself. She found herself responding to him genuinely – she had to remind herself that he was still a potential suspect.
"Bouteille impossible?" she asked, her dubious tone tempered with a smile. "You build ships in bottles?"
Jack looked impressed with her knowledge.
"Well," he said, leaning forward as he spoke. "I don't restrain myself to ships. I recently put a Lego brick into a 2 inch bottle."
Sharon wasn't entirely sure how to respond to the intense enthusiasm that was being directed her way. She found herself quite curious as to how he could have gotten a Lego into such a small bottle, and yet also at a loss as to why he would want to. She had always been intrigued with ships in bottles, ever since she was a little girl. Mr. Barden, an elderly widower who lived next door to the O'Dwyers when Sharon was 5, had presented her with one of his creations, which she had treasured until Jackson had destroyed it one night in a drunken stupor. Part of what she had loved was the beautiful intricacy of the ship inside the bottle – she was having trouble seeing the same beauty in a lump of molded plastic. She decided it was a good point at which to segue into talking about her prestigious career as a surgeon.
"Ah," Sharon replied. "I guess I've never had a lot of down time. Being a surgeon, I keep long hours at the hospital and until recently I also had kids at home. My youngest went away to college last year, so I suddenly have extra time on my hands. I suppose I am in the market for new hobbies."
Jack let her move the conversation off impossible bottles and into other topics with grace. As the meal progressed, so did the conversation. Sharon found herself enjoying the dinner, and had to remind herself to keep up her objectivity. Jack paid the bill and insisted on walking her to her car. As they exited the restaurant, he ushered her through the door with a hand on the small of her back, leaving it there a little longer than was necessary.
"I'm parked just over there," Sharon told him, pointing to the end of the block. He nodded and they began walking.
"I had fun tonight, Laura," he commented, almost shyly.
Sharon smiled.
"I did, too."
They walked in companionable silence until they got to her car, at which point Sharon turned to face Jack with a smile on her face. He was still standing quite close, and he was giving her a very intense look. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she had a second to process his intent before he leaned in and placed his lips against hers.
The kiss was sweet and gentle, and Sharon found herself responding without actually giving it much thought. He skillfully deepened the kiss without her even realizing that he had done so until she found herself pressed back against the side of the car with his hands lightly caressing her waist and back. It had been a while since she had been so skillfully and thoroughly kissed. But, common sense prevailed, and she pushed against his chest and pulled her head back to put an end to the make-out session, their lips separating with an audible pop.
"Jack," she said, a little breathlessly. He had pulled back at her unspoken request, but left his hands at her waist. He gave her a somewhat shy look before speaking in a hurried manner.
"Laura, I hope this isn't too fast, but I had a really great time tonight. I'd love to see you again. I actually was planning to go to this cooking class on Saturday – would you be interested in joining me?"
Sharon's smile froze at the mention of a date on Saturday. Her gut told her that Jack was not the killer, but they didn't have enough to rule him out as a suspect either. The fact that he wanted to make a date on Saturday was actually quite normal, and was more likely a coincidence than anything sinister. They had spent a good portion of their dinner talking about cooking, an interest they both apparently shared. Sharon gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself to smile.
"That sounds lovely – what time is the class?"
"Noon – we cook and then get to eat our creations for lunch. I've taken other classes from this place - I always learn a few new techniques, and their recipes are excellent."
"Alright," Sharon assented. "It sounds like fun. Where should I meet you?"
"Why don't I come pick you up? Just let me know where."
"Well, I'm on call this weekend," Sharon said, feigning regret. "I really can't be too far from my car in case I get called in. I'd really rather just meet you there."
Jack relented and gave her the information. As she moved to unlock the car, he gently grasped her wrist and took the keys from her hand. She looked up at him, frowning slightly. He then unlocked the door and stepped back to open it for her. She found the display a little odd, and a lot anachronistic, but smiled and seated herself in the driver's seat. He handed her the keys and bid her goodnight, standing back on the curb to watch her pull away.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Andy Flynn watched Sharon pull away from the curb and turned to face the wall at his back. He had been part of her back up at the restaurant and had trailed her to her car to make sure that she made it safely behind the wheel. He had therefore witnessed the entire scene between Sharon and Jack, which was currently causing his blood pressure to sky-rocket. He ground his teeth together while counting slowly to ten, trying to put a lid on his anger, but it wasn't working. His fist shot out and connected solidly with the brick wall as he muttered a vehement curse. The sharp pain that shot through his hand and all the way to his elbow was a welcome diversion, and he considered repeating the action. An inspection of his hand revealed that it was already bloodied, which was going to be difficult to explain as it was, so he tamped down on the urge and just reveled in the pain.
Watching Sharon make out with the creep had been one of the toughest things he had ever had to watch. He found himself running an emotional gamut of jealousy, anger, and disappointment. Jealousy, because he would have liked to be the one tasting Sharon's soft lips. Anger, because he didn't like the forward way in which the guy had moved in on her. Disappointment, because she had seemed to really respond to Jack's advances. He tried to tell himself that he knew she was acting, but it had still felt a little too real. Once she had pushed the guy away, and he seemed to accept her decision, Andy had looked away, trying to scrub the image from his eyeballs. When he had looked back, the guy was holding the car door for her like a gentleman, which only served to make Andy even angrier.
Andy took a deep, calming breath. He was in serious need of a meeting. But before he could do that, he had to go back to the station for a debriefing. Andy placed both palms against the cool brick and closed his eyes again, inhaling another deep breath. After a few minutes of breathing, he had his temper under better control, and felt calm enough to face the rest of the team. He pushed off the wall and headed back toward where the van was parked.
