I'm really glad you liked my interpretation of Rusty! Your reviews were just lovely, thank you. Keep 'em coming! 😉
Before we see what happens in New York and if we finally meet Jimmy, I'd like to give MajorCFan a huge thanks. It would have taken me forever to finish this chapter had it not been for her continuous support and words of encouragement. She's the best!
Enjoy!
TAKE THE PLUNGE - CHAPTER 11
The week leading up to Sharon's trip to New York passed at an agonizingly slow pace. She found herself in a constant state of both impatience and trepidation. She was eager for the investigation to move along and yield some palpable results, but at the same time, she feared what those results might be. What was worse, there was always the possibility of Jimmy, and by extension Stroh, suddenly starting to stray from their routine. Although Rusty was under a watchful eye at all times, Sharon felt awfully vulnerable when she thought of all the ways he could be hurt if they did.
There had been some movement in their investigation. The FBI had managed to more or less confirm that it was Jimmy who kept accessing NFL's servers illegally. It took them another day to check out all the internet cafés that popped up when they traced the IP addresses, and most of them either had no security cameras, or only had some installed as props. However, they ultimately found two cafés whose employees recognized a photo of Jimmy. They could not recall the exact time of his visit, nor had they seen Stroh with him, but they clearly remembered the man's face. For further confirmation, both the FBI and the local law enforcement were combing through security footage and traffic cams in the surrounding area, but they were having no luck thus far.
The development felt rather relieving anyway, as it ever so slightly raised everybody's confidence that their plan would work, and that they were on the right track. Nonetheless, Sharon still wasn't sleeping well, and if she wasn't sleeping, neither was Andy. She had spent two more nights either on the balcony or in the living room, holding a silent vigil. Over what, she couldn't say. All she could say for sure was that she was nervous, and she couldn't wait for her trip to New York to put their plan into motion. Each night, Andy would soon be up, too, pleading with her to return to bed. On the third night, when she woke up from her restless slumber, and intended to sneak out of the bedroom once again, she found he had not slept at all, but had instead kept his own silent vigil over her. In the darkness, she hadn't even noticed he was awake until she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist, as she started slipping out of bed.
"Why don't you not sleep here?" he mumbled, squeezing her wrist lightly.
It stopped her mid movement, and she sank back onto the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, looking his way trying to make out his face.
He just scoffed, letting go of her wrist, and after a bout of shuffling on his side of the bed, the bedside lamp came to life. "Good," he told her on a tired smile, "thing I wasn't asleep then."
"I'm sorry," she said on a sigh, turning her head to look at the poorly illuminated ceiling.
Andy propped his head up on an elbow and looked at her for a long moment. She didn't need to meet his gaze to know he was worried. "Is this too much for you?" he suddenly asked, waving a hand between them.
A lot of things were too much for her at the moment, but it wasn't the question itself that had Sharon's head abruptly turn to give him a shocked look. The implication of his gesture had. "What?" she choked out.
He shrugged a single shoulder. "I asked you to not shut me out, and I still want that, but," his brow furrowed a little, and she knew whatever he would say next he would say only reluctantly, "if you need some sp-"
"No," she said, startling them both with just how loudly she said the word. Bless him for being willing to offer her some breathing room if she needed it, even if it went against all his instincts. "No," she repeated more quietly, but no less heatedly, as she turned onto her side, mirroring his position to better look at him. "I'm just," she paused with a sigh, "restless," she said lamely.
"You slept just fine, Sharon, before Monday," Andy said. "What's changed?"
"I only slept fine with you here," Sharon said somewhat defensively. "Less fine when I was out of town," she added on an eye roll, leaving the 'without you' unvoiced.
"With me here," he repeated, a small, almost proud smile tugging at his lips. The smile quickly vanished, however, when he then frowned and asked, "But not anymore?"
In her sleep deprived state, the pained undertone of his question teared her up before she could even attempt to pull herself together. It simply overwhelmed her how much he wanted to help her, ease her worries, and how much it pained him when he couldn't. "Oh, God, no," she let out, reaching a hand out to his face and pulling it close so she could kiss him. When she leaned back, her palm now resting on his cheek, she added, "I'm always more fine," she rolled her eyes at the silly wording, "with you here, Andy. I don't need space," she clarified, sounding as horrified by the idea as she felt. "That's the last thing I want from you," she reiterated, pressing her lips briefly to his once more.
Andy lifted his hand, giving her an affectionate look as his fingers snaked into her hair, behind her ear. "Then stop sneaking out," he told her pleadingly, his thumb stroking gently over her cheek.
Sharon sighed, and rested her forehead against his chin, finding the movement of his thumb oddly soothing. "I feel trapped inside my own head." She shared her confession in a low murmur. "It's easier to escape its confines when I'm not in bed," she added, knowing it wasn't much of an explanation, but hoping he would understand anyway.
Andy suddenly pulled back and lifted the comforter off himself. "Let me help break you out of your head then," he told her, getting to his feet before she could even realize what was happening.
"How do you suggest doing that?" she asked, watching him with a raised eyebrow when he gathered their comforter and bunched it up in his arms.
"Let's try not sleeping in the living room together," he said simply. "Come on," he reached out a hand to grab hers and tugged on it, "I know what I'm doing," he added, tilting his head in the direction of the living room.
She had shaken her head at him in disbelief, doubting his suggestion would resolve anything. She heeded his request, however, knowing it was the least she could do after having unintentionally kept him at arm's length again. It turned out that he did know what he was doing, and understood her poorly described state of mind perfectly. Assured that she didn't desire space, but rather preferred his presence, Andy had been correct in assuming that joining her in her escape would help relax her even more than just the change in scenery. They had curled up on the couch, tucked in under the comforter, and spent a long while merely talking. Sharon was reminded of the fact that Andy knew more about easing troubled minds than he liked to admit, and while they had not come to any major revelations that night, his suggestion had indeed helped quiet down her inner turmoil. They both knew what intensified her insomnia; the fear of failing the next week in New York, or not getting the chance to even give their plan a shot should Jimmy not look her up again. The pressure had risen significantly in just a short few hours that Monday, and although they would keep on looking regardless of the outcome, the idea of their plan falling through and returning them to ground zero in their search, was almost as terrifying as the threat of Stroh itself. The idea planted a number of what-if scenarios in Sharon's head, making her mind run around in circles, and in turn, trapping her in her worry.
They had fallen asleep at some point, and hadn't woken until Rusty, who was surprised to see them sleeping on top of each other on the couch, gently shook them awake the next morning. It took a day to work out all the kinks in their backs afterwards, but it was a surprisingly restful night's sleep otherwise. They continued to worry after that, and the following nights remained restless, but for whatever reason, Sharon managed to spend them in her bed again.
As her flight to New York approached, Sharon found herself very reluctant to leave Rusty behind. At the same time, she found that Andy was just as reluctant to let her leave on her own. She had half-expected him to insist on accompanying her to New York, and he certainly looked like he very much wanted to as he drove her to the airport, but he hadn't said a word. Only when he promised to keep Rusty safe, and asked her not to worry about anything but herself, did she realize that Rusty was the reason why. Andy didn't like it, but he knew that the only way he would be able to help in easing her worries was by making sure her son was protected in her absence. By managing that, she would be less distracted ever so slightly, and better focused on watching her own back.
She boarded the plane with a heavy heart, missing both Andy and Rusty almost instantly, but she boarded it with renewed faith, too; faith that their plan might work. She also looked forward to seeing her daughter. Emily had the day off and would be picking Sharon up from the airport, then dropping her off at the NFL's main office. Once she was done, they were set to have dinner together at Emily's apartment where she would also crash for the night. Her daughter lived quite a distance away from the main office, so Sharon usually accepted the NFL's offered hotel accommodations that were much closer. She would take advantage of them the next day, but for this single evening, she would opt against them. The thought of cancelling her plans with Emily had crossed Sharon's mind, but only briefly, and only long enough to discard it. Sharon was resolute in not allowing Stroh's mere name to interfere with their lives like that, and besides, with everything that had been going on, she missed her daughter dearly, and she was eager to indulge in her company.
It had been after dinner, once they cleared the table and settled on the opposite sides of Emily's couch with cups of tea, that their conversation had shifted from the previous light topics, to the heavy one of the proverbial thorn in Sharon's side.
"How are you, mom?" Emily asked. Her gaze dropped to the tea clasped between her hands in her lap, and she added quietly, "With, you know..."
Sharon stayed quiet on purpose, knowing it would prompt Emily to look up again. When she indeed did, she finally answered. "I worry."
Emily frowned. On an exasperated sigh, and almost a whine, she said, "Mom."
Sharon had to suppress a smile. She was all too familiar with her children's disdain at her proclivity to be vague about matters she wanted to shield them from. In all fairness, by the time they grew up, it had become habit rather than need, but being aware of it did not stop her from still doing it. Sighing, she shifted on the couch, more safely tucking her legs underneath herself. "I've slept better before all this mess," she finally admitted.
"Is it really that serious?" Emily asked, concerned.
"When it comes to Phillip Stroh, Emily," Sharon gave her a grave look, "it only can be that serious."
"Do you really think you two are in danger?"
"It is hard to believe that everything we have discovered in connection to me so far is mere coincidence," she shrugged, "so, I do believe the two of us are targets."
"But if you think," Emily's brow drew together, "he's only back for revenge, wouldn't that make others targets as well? You're not the only reason why he was caught, right?"
"Well," Sharon tilted her head to the side, deciding how exactly to answer, "as a matter of fact we're not, but we are his easiest targets."
"Because you're no longer working for the LAPD?" Emily prodded.
"I'm afraid so," Sharon confirmed.
In reality, the LAPD had decided to reach out to two more possible and most obvious targets. There was no indication that they really were on Stroh's list, but once the department officially got involved with the investigation, it was decided that DDA Rios, as well as Sharon's predecessor in Major Crimes, Brenda Leigh Johnson, be filled in on the latest developments. It was doubtful that Stroh would seek them out, for unlike Sharon, they were better protected in their professions, and more difficult to approach. However, those leading the investigation still felt they needed to be made aware of the situation. Both women, especially Brenda, whom Howard hated having to brief knowing just how deeply she detested Stroh, were eager to help somehow, but they were faced with an issue similar to Sharon's. They worked for the law, but neither one worked for the law enforcement. Rios had a slight advantage over them, however. She was still the prosecutor on Stroh's case, and if they finally managed to apprehend him, she would once again be responsible for convicting and sentencing him.
Emily hummed, in much the same contemplative manner her mother often did, and took a sip of her tea. Suddenly she laughed, albeit nervously. "I thought taking on the NFL job would keep you out of danger."
Sharon chuckled. "Believe it or not, so did I."
Emily chuckled again, too, but sobered fairly quickly only to say sadly, "I wish I could help."
Sharon reached over the couch, hating to see her so dejected, and patted her forearm. "Seeing you helps more than you know," she told her on a reassuring smile.
Emily returned the smile with a small one of her own. Probably trying to pull herself out of her more worrying thoughts, she asked, "How's the littlest brother taking it?" She shrugged and added, "I'd ask him myself, but I'm not sure he would want to talk about it."
"No, he probably wouldn't," Sharon agreed sadly. "He's worried, too." She quirked an eyebrow at her daughter, and on a slight eye roll added, "About me mostly."
"With good reason," Emily said somewhat bitterly.
Sharon took a moment to sip on her own tea, before trying to ease Emily's concerns. "I am safe, we both are," she told her. "And hopefully, by the end of my stay here," Emily, of course, knew the basics of the FBI's plan; there was no way around telling either her or Ricky, "we will at least catch the person who we suspect kidnapped and killed six women."
Emily nodded somewhat absentmindedly. "Just don't add yourself to that list, mom," she said quietly.
The emotion that laced Emily's unexpected words, created a lump at the back of Sharon's throat, but she was more confused by them than touched. "What's that supposed to mean?" Emily had not offered similar comments the last time Stroh threatened her and Rusty.
The startled look the question earned Sharon, made her think Emily hadn't meant to say that out loud. However, Emily put down her cup of tea on the coffee table in front of the couch, then scooted a bit closer to her mother, resting her hands on top of her thighs as she fully faced her, and said, "Just be careful, mom, okay? I know you'll do anything to protect Rusty, and I'm not faulting you for that," she shook her head, "but please, just be careful."
"Honey," Sharon let out, leaning toward the coffee table long enough to discard her own tea. She had been so wrapped up in her worry for Rusty, that she had inadvertently neglected to recognize how worried her other two children must be. When she leaned back, she put her hands over her daughter's and inquired about something else though. "Where is this coming from?"
Emily gave her an almost bewildered look. "You have proof that a psychopath," she nearly spat out the word, "is back in the country, and he and his accomplice seem to be following you across states. That's," she pointed a hand somewhere behind the couch, "where we're coming from!"
'We're'. Sharon noted these were Ricky's sentiments as well. "I'm a-" She wanted to say 'trained police officer' but that would have been a lie. Coming up short as she scrambled for another categorical thing to say, she closed her mouth, and gave up. There was nothing comforting she could really tell her daughter, when the fact she pointed out was exactly what worried her so much in the first place.
Emily raised an eyebrow at her, and as if reading her mind, muttered, "Exactly, can't use that one on us anymore, mom."
Sharon squeezed her daughter's hands, and gave her a soft look. "No, I can't," she admitted. "But, just because I no longer work for the police, does not mean I've forgotten how it's done, and-"
On an eye roll Emily finished the sentence for her. "You're always careful."
Sharon offered her a small affectionate smile, and confidently confirmed, "I always am."
Emily took a quick breath. Sharon had expected another argument to come forth, but instead she was pinned with a bland look, and accusingly, Emily said, "You're such a mother."
Sharon tried to stay composed, and even look sternly at her, but her efforts were successful for barely a second, after which a short snort bubbled to the surface. "Should I be insulted?" she managed to ask before proper laughter took over her.
Emily's eyebrows shot up at her reaction. "God, mom, you really are sleep-deprived." Her observation sounded genuinely concerned, but when that only fueled Sharon's laughter, it left her little choice but to join her.
"Oh," Sharon let out on a high, merry note after a few moments. "I needed that," she added, leaning into the back of the couch, and draping an arm over her daughter's shoulders to pull her into a sideways hug. "Oh," she said again, squeezing Emily's shoulders tightly, "I've missed you."
Emily shook her head, but squeezed her arm in between her mother's back and the couch, returning the embrace. "I'm not moving back to LA," she mumbled, leaning her head against Sharon's shoulder.
Sharon didn't see it, but when the words elicited another laugh from her, Emily smiled a little proudly at herself, clearly recognizing that her mother was in dire need of some comic relief. Sharon just wrapped her other arm around her, and mumbled back, "And I'm not going to stop hoping you will." In reality, she would never ask her to move back to LA, no matter how much she missed her, or hated that the distance between them was too big for them to see each other as often as they would like. She would tease her every now and then about it, throw a tempting offer her way on occasion as well, but as long as Emily was happy, she would never really interfere with the dream she was currently living.
They stayed silently embraced for a few more moments. The fact that it took Emily a while to finally loosen her hold on her, let Sharon know just how worried she was, and that she missed her equally as much. There was not much more, if anything, she could say on the Stroh matter, and she suspected Emily gathered as much, and instead sought out other comforts. They had seen more of each other since Sharon had taken the NFL job, but it was not nearly enough, so she found herself indulging in her daughter's nearness as well. She wasn't lying earlier either. Seeing her helped more than Emily would ever know.
When Emily finally pulled away, she had a contemplative look on her face, so Sharon merely looked back, patiently waiting for her to say her mind. "So, I hear Andy's moved in."
Sharon wasn't sure what she expected to come out of her mouth, but she most certainly had not expected that. In response, her eyes widened momentarily. Both Ricky and Emily were aware of the arrangements made regarding Rusty's protection, and of her other plans of joining households with Andy, so she could not understand what the mischievous glint in her daughter's eyes was exactly about. "I know, I have told you as much," she finally, rather deliberately, said.
Emily suddenly grinned, she was definitely past trying to finagle more information about Stroh out of her. "Oh, no, no, from what I hear," she was being positively smug now, "he's been spending every possible moment with you," she raised an eyebrow, "at your condo," she lowered her eyebrow, "for weeks now."
Sharon closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head at her daughter. "That is what you and Rusty discuss?" she asked in disbelief. "How much time Andy spends at my condo?"
"Yup," Emily quipped, not the least bit intimidated by the dangerous dip her mother's voice took on her final question. She tilted her head to the side. "Among other things."
Sharon shot her a narrow-eyed look. "Well, then you also know how much time he hasn't spent there."
Emily perked up at that. "Oh, I do," she said matter-of-factly, "but we're not counting the few times you were out of town."
She looked like she had more to say, but when she stopped, and pinned Sharon with a challenging look, she was all but forced to ask, "And why is that?"
Emily smiled almost deviously. "Because we both know that was only because you wouldn't let the poor man move his stuff over as well. I'm sure he had no other choice but drop by his house occasionally for a batch of fresh clothes." She shot her mother a look, as if to add, 'Now, whose fault would that be?'
Sharon considered her for a moment. She did not appreciate the liberty her daughter took in teasing her, she was even less appreciative of her nosiness that bordered on meddling, but it warmed her heart to know just how accepting not just she, but her other two children had become of Andy's and her relationship. "You are much too old to be teasing your mother about her," she had paused for merely a second, simply because at her age, she considered the term 'boyfriend' almost juvenile, but the pause lasted long enough for her daughter to interrupt and pounce on her.
"Her what?" Judging by the smirk on Emily's face, she was taking more pleasure in this than Sharon really tolerated.
The interruption came at an excellent moment though, for it gave Sharon time to come up with a different approach. "As the child in this relationship, don't you think you should refrain from teasing me about my love life?" She made sure to raise her eyebrow and sound suggestive enough to make her daughter squirm.
When a shocked expression flashed across Emily's features, Sharon knew she had accomplished her mission. Emily recovered fairly quickly, however, and quite confidently said, "No, as a matter of fact, I don't." Under her breath, she added, "Although I think I am a little disgusted now."
That had Sharon laugh softly at her. "Well, stop being nosy," she smacked Emily's thigh playfully, "and I'll stop disgusting you," she said plainly.
"Now," Emily shifted on the couch and wrapped her arm around her mother's as she made herself more comfortable again, "where would be the fun in that, huh?"
Sharon shook her head at her, amused. "Yeah," she said, pressing a kiss to Emily's temple, "where would be the fun in that?"
Emily just laughed, then reached for the remote control. "How about a movie now?" She glanced at Sharon, and pulled a thinking face. "Something violent sounds good, I think." Her eyebrows lifted, and she let out, "Ah, a violent horror movie!" With that she started furiously scrolling down the titles that popped up on her TV.
Sharon simply shook her head again, and watched in silence as her daughter strayed far from both violent and horror movies. When she finally settled on a romantic comedy and curled up next to her, Sharon plopped a kiss into her hair. "Thank you," she whispered, then turned her attention to the movie.
Emily merely squeezed her arm in response, and focused on the TV, too.
...
Sharon had appreciated her daughter's attempts at distracting her, and for the most part they had even been successful. She went to work the next morning feeling slightly lighter than the day before.
However, as the day went on, and work failed to be as good of a distraction as she would have hoped, she found herself in the by then all too familiar state of trepidation.
Agent Morris, who had arrived in New York the same day as Sharon, albeit on a purposefully different flight, had promised to call the instant Jimmy made a move, if he made a move at all. Although it was only the second day of her stay in New York thus far, Sharon was growing impatient and she wanted news sooner rather than later. The longer they waited, the smaller their chances were of anything happening at all.
Unfortunately, the day morphed into days, and none of them held any news either. Morris's daily updates always said the same, 'No hits yet. We are still waiting.'
Sharon was in low spirits as she finished up her morning meeting on her fourth and final day in New York. Not even the fact that she would finally be seeing Rusty and Andy again later that evening when she arrived back in LA could trump the fact that their optimistic plan was shaping up to be a complete bust. So when, as she strolled down a hallway after her meeting, a tall, brown-haired man, looking very formal in his black suit and tie, asked her for a moment, it did not even occur to her that it might have something to do with Jimmy.
"Are you Sharon Raydor?" he asked when his 'Excuse me.' made her come to a halt.
The mention of her name lifted her eyebrows, and she pressed the stack of folders she carried firmly against her chest as she folded her arms. "I am," she confirmed, a questioning note to the words.
"Hello," the man extended his hand in greeting, "I'm Andrew Hart." She accepted his hand and shook it. "I'm a Special Agent with the FBI," the man added.
That got Sharon's proper attention, and for a second all she managed to say was an almost startled, "Oh." as her mind started running a mile a minute.
"Agent Morris sent me, Ma'am," Agent Hart went on. "He would like you to join us in our offices. We have found and taken James Curtis into custody." He did not even wait for Sharon to confirm whether she even could leave or not, but started leading the way in the direction out of which he came, saying, "I believe time is of the essence here." After a few steps, however, he noticed Sharon wasn't following. He turned around. "Ma'am?"
"Agent Hart," she said very deliberately, "may I first see some credentials?" She lifted an eyebrow in challenge, and added, "Surely you understand why I cannot just take your word for it."
To her surprise, the man cracked a smile. Shaking his head, he fished his badge out of his pocket, already walking back to show it to her. Once he flipped the badge open for her to read, he said, "Agent Morris warned me you always meant business." He chuckled almost nervously. "I guess he wasn't exaggerating."
...
Sharon's amusement with Agent Morris's warning was short lived. Once she had been assured that the man was who he claimed to be, she made quick work of collecting her things, and let him give her a ride to FBI's New York headquarters. She was going to grill Agent Hart about the specifics of their operation on their way, but before she could, Morris called and filled her in himself.
Jimmy had triggered the FBI's alert when, from an internet café downtown, he had looked Sharon up. He had been completely worry-free, not at all in a rush as he checked her schedule, so when the NYPD and FBI suddenly flooded the place, he was completely caught off guard.
Letting Sharon watch the interrogation had not been part of any of their plans, so when Morris said he was thinking of doing exactly that, it was safe to say she had been caught off guard as well. However, Morris seemed fairly certain that Sharon might catch onto something during the interrogation that someone less familiar with the Stroh case would possibly miss. He was convinced they could only benefit from it.
She also found out why time was of the essence. Apparently, Jimmy had waived his right to an attorney, and they were therefore eager to start interrogating him before he changed his mind. What was more, Jimmy was still being transported to the FBI, and if Agent Hart drove fast enough, they would meet up there, just in time for the interrogation to commence.
Once they finally arrived, they made quick work of issuing Sharon a visitor's badge before escorting her up an elevator and down a few hallways, that, as she was told, led to where she would be watching the interrogation from. Aware that she was doing so as a civilian, being lead through the unfamiliar building like that felt oddly disconcerting to her. The thought of having her Captain's badge attached to her hip again, prominently popped into her head, and for the first time not in order to be allowed to hunt down Stroh personally, but in order to, as Andy had so eloquently put it once, hide behind her Captain's mask. She relaxed somewhat, however, when upon entering the FBI's equivalent of Major Crimes' electronics room, she was met by the familiar face of Agent Morris. He offered her a small smile and reached a hand out to shake hers in greeting.
"We've got him," he told her rather proudly, tilting his head toward the glass panel of what Sharon knew was a one way mirror.
There she finally laid eyes on the man who had, along with Phillip Stroh, become the bane of her existence over the past several weeks. He seemed oddly relaxed, seated in a chair at the grey, metal table that was bolted to the floor in the middle of the dimly lit room. The fact that his hands were cuffed, and rather tightly by the looks of it, did not seem to bother him in the least. The closed manila folder that lay on the table, just a few inches out of his handcuffed reach, did not seem to pique his curiosity either. In the corner, Sharon took in the form of an unfamiliar male figure, no doubt another FBI agent, standing guard, but she did not linger on him. Instead her attention quickly returned to Jimmy.
She wasn't sure what she expected of him when she finally met, or in this case, saw him, but she found the air of nonchalant confidence surrounding him more unnerving than she cared to admit.
She gave Morris a small smile in return, and asked, "Stroh?"
Morris shrugged. "We're about to start working on that."
Sharon nodded, eyes still set on Jimmy. It would have been too good to be true if he had said they had caught Stroh as well.
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to talk to him yourself," Morris then told her. She finally unglued her eyes from Jimmy, when he pointed out one of the buttons on the control panel located underneath the mirror. Unlike Major Crimes' electronics room, there were no chairs or monitors in this one, only a single control panel, riddled with various buttons and small indicating lights, of which she only recognized a red illuminated one labeled as 'rec', that obviously meant the interrogation room was already being recorded. "But if you push and hold this," Morris did exactly that, "you can reach me if you have any suggestions while I'm in there." He then lifted a hand to his left ear, indicating the hidden ear piece he was wearing.
Sharon took a breath and nodded. "Thank you," she said, "but before you start, have you informed Commander Mason and-"
"Major Crimes?" Morris supplied. Not waiting for confirmation, he added, "Yes, I did. They also know I invited you over."
"Okay," she said on another nod. She hadn't had a chance to call Andy, and upon arrival she was instructed to turn off her phone. She wished she had Andy, and the rest of the squad really, for moral support, but knowing they were already appraised of the latest developments, felt comforting enough for the time being.
"Anything in particular you think I should ask?" Morris asked, starting to walk toward the door.
Sharon considered his question for a moment. Agent Morris might often not look it, but he was a good investigator. Although she wished she could do so herself, she had faith in his ability to interrogate Jimmy thoroughly and get as much information out of him before he came to his senses and demanded a lawyer. "He is confident," she finally said, more to herself than Morris. She lifted a lone eyebrow at him, very pointedly, and added, "Maybe too confident."
Getting the hint, Morris nodded. "Let's see if I can rattle him then," he said, before finally opening the door and stepping out.
The few moments he needed to switch rooms, Sharon used to think over the evidence they had on Jimmy thus far. They could easily convict him on the hacking charge. Perhaps something could even be dug up regarding those stolen credit cards they found. Based on the single fingerprint found at his apartment, and her connection to Stroh, there was also a slim possibility of bringing him up on charges of aiding and abetting, but that was nowhere near enough in serving justice. Maybe they could build a circumstantial case around Amelia Page, the first woman that had gone missing, too, but that would not resolve the remaining five missing persons cases. With their lack of evidence, their best bet was to get Jimmy to talk, and preferably about both the missing women and Stroh. What was more, it needed to happen fast. The longer it took to get any kind of information out of Jimmy, the higher the possibility of Stroh getting wind of his arrest and going completely underground again.
She was pulled from her thoughts when Morris finally entered the interrogation room, and sat down across from Jimmy. Without further ado, he jumped straight into the questioning.
"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Curtis?" It was a typical introductory question.
Jimmy smirked, then leaned back in his chair. "Call me Jimmy, please."
The smirk didn't throw Morris. He merely amended his question. "Do you know why you're here, Jimmy?"
"Yes," Jimmy answered. "Hacking," he added on an eye roll, as if he considered the charges bogus.
"What were you looking for in NFL's servers, Jimmy?"
Jimmy smirked again, but this time raised his eyebrow at Morris, too. "Wouldn't you like to know."
That had Morris shuffle in his seat, in annoyance, if Sharon had to guess. "I do know," he said pointedly. "What has you so interested in NFL's Chief of Security?"
"Sharon Raydor," Jimmy drawled, smiling, and Sharon did not in the least appreciate the way her name rolled of his tongue. "Oh, I've learned quite a bit about her," Jimmy added. "Very interesting woman," he said, sounding almost in awe. "But," his tone suddenly turned slightly sad, "not really my type." He shrugged. "A friend of mine on the other hand..." he trailed off, tilting his head to the side.
Sharon's eyebrows shot up. Two openings, on the missing women and on Stroh, and they did not even have to dig too much.
Morris took note of the same thing as well. She could tell with the way he momentarily stiffened at Jimmy's words, but smartly, he did not address any of it just yet. Instead he said, "Must be a very good friend, if," he retrieved a sheet of paper from his folder, and started looking at it with feigned interest, "you looked her name up, how many times?" For effect, he started counting, as he trailed a finger down the list of dates on his retrieved sheet.
It did the trick and annoyed Jimmy enough to interrupt Morris before he could announce his final count. "He is a very good friend," he confirmed. "Owed him one, too," he added on a shrug.
"You must owe him quite a lot," Morris said, relaxing into the back of his chair, "if you're willing to travel across country for him, too."
Jimmy smirked again, and what he said next, or rather the manner in which he said it, positively disgusted Sharon. "Well, we also have certain business ventures together."
Morris finally opened the manila folder on the table, pulling a picture out of it. Sharon couldn't make out the face on it, but she knew it was a photo of the first victim. "Ventures such as this?" Morris asked, pushing the photo toward Jimmy.
Jimmy looked at it, and, not at all fazed by the fact that this was the face of a woman he had kidnapped, raped and killed, he actually chuckled, as if considering Morris's question absurd. Sharon found it astounding how purposefully obtuse he was obviously being, when he said, "You will have to clarify that question, Agent."
Morris's tone of voice suddenly changed, a note of clear disgust entering it. "Is this your type?" He punctuated his question by tapping his fingers against the photo.
Jimmy nodded appreciatively, as he looked at the picture again. Sharon suppressed an eye roll at the show he was giving them. As if he did not know exactly what the woman looked like. "Yes, very much so."
Morris fished out five more photos then, and lined them up neatly next to the one already on the table. "What about these?"
With feigned disinterest, Jimmy scanned them. "What about those?" he countered.
This aloofness of Jimmy's actually surprised Sharon. It wasn't like Stroh to partner up with this type of man. His partners were usually lacking in confidence, clumsy and jittery to a certain degree, and what was more, easily intimidated. Sharon saw none of that in Jimmy, and had it not been for Stroh's fingerprints in this man's apartment, she would have started to entertain the possibility that they were wrong about this supposed partnership. At the same time, however, she also wondered if, perhaps, Stroh had actually prepared Jimmy for a possible interrogation. Because, in Sharon's book, Jimmy's responses all but reeked of Stroh.
"They aren't your type?" Morris asked.
"Of course they are," Jimmy said dismissively. "I just don't see your point here."
"My point is this." Morris fished out another photo, and although Sharon again couldn't really see it, she knew it must have been of their first victim, dead.
With heightened interest Sharon watched Jimmy's reaction. His eyes widened momentarily, a clear sign that he had no idea that the victim's body had been found, but seemingly compassionately, he simply said, "That poor woman."
"Hmm," Morris let out almost derisively, leafing through his folder in search of another photo. Once he found it, he placed it on top of the others and asked, "Do you know who this is?"
Jimmy took a look at the photo, with greater interest this time, and as he took it in, his eyes widened again, a split second longer than a moment ago. Of that he was unaware as well, it would seem. He, however, offered no reply this time.
"That," Morris tapped a finger over the photo, "is you renting out the storage unit where this," his finger now returned to the photo of their first victim, "woman was found in."
For the first time since the interrogation started, Jimmy squirmed. He tried folding his arms across his chest, in an obvious attempt at defensiveness, but failed seeing as his hands were in cuffs. Awkwardly, he resigned to plop them back down on top of the table. Sharon found it odd that Jimmy not only didn't know Amelia's body had been discovered, but that he also had no clue that he had been marked as the prime suspect. The fact had her wonder if Stroh perhaps had his hands in that as well.
When Jimmy again remained silent, Morris said, taunted really, "Cat got your tongue?"
For whatever reason that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, for Jimmy smiled sweetly, and said, "My friend advised me when to keep my mouth shut." He shrugged, and added, "This," he lifted his chin indicating the latest photo displayed on the table, "is when."
Sharon sighed. They needed him to continue talking, because they only had circumstantial evidence tying him to the first victim, and so far nothing but Sharon to link him to the remaining five. To make matters worse, Sharon's link was a very weak one, and, in lieu of Jimmy's confession, strengthening it hinged on connecting everything conclusively to Phillip Stroh. As Morris seemed to hesitate at Jimmy's latest words, she pushed the button he had pointed out to her a few minutes ago, and said, "That is Stroh talking," she was absolutely positive now that Stroh had coached Jimmy for precisely this kind of interrogation, "and he is still not asking for an attorney."
She knew that Morris heard her loud and clear, when he shifted a little in his chair. "Okay," he told Jimmy, nodding. "Let's see if this will get you talking again."
He proceeded to collect all the spread out photos on the table, stacking them neatly and returning them into his folder. Once done, he went to the folder's final page and pulled out a completely new photograph and placed it in front of Jimmy. "Do you know this man?" he asked.
At this point, convinced that Stroh had coached him, it no longer shocked Sharon that Jimmy showed no reaction, but remained stony silent.
Morris didn't seem much bothered by it either, and Sharon guessed he must have come to conclusions similar to hers. He merely continued and said, "Did you know that aiding and abetting a known fugitive is a felony?"
When Jimmy continued his silence, Morris extracted a new sheet of paper out of his folder. Turning it toward Jimmy, he pointed at something and asked, "Do you know what this is?"
That elicited a response from Jimmy. He huffed, clearly suppressing an eye roll, and said, "A fingerprint," he paused, "obviously."
"And would it surprise you if I said it belonged to this man?" Morris asked, referring to Stroh's photo.
It certainly did not surprise Sharon that Jimmy again said nothing.
But Morris was prepared for that, and he added, almost smugly, "We found it in your apartment in Spokane."
When, at long last, Jimmy reacted in a way that did not seem rehearsed, Sharon smiled a small, victorious smile. Jimmy looked up at Morris with a positively startled look, and said, raising his voice for the first time, too, "Well, he used to be my lawyer, that's how it probably got there!"
Morris immediately pounced on that statement. "So you do know him?"
That made Jimmy swallow, and Sharon smiled to herself again, appreciating the successfully executed confusion tactic. Apparently, revealing that particular tidbit had not been his intention. When he said nothing, not because of what was probably some kind of agreement between him and Stroh, but because he was simply stumped for words, Morris chuckled and said, "Don't worry, we already knew that. His legal representation of you is a matter of public record, Jimmy." Shrugging he also, said, "I'm surprised he didn't tell you." He tilted his head to the side, and added, "However, I will tell you that this is enough for us to add aiding and abetting a fugitive to your hacking charges."
"What?" Jimmy sounded positively alarmed now. "You can't prove that fingerprint is fresh!"
Morris shrugged. "True," he admitted in faux nonchalance. "But what do you think will it look like to a jury of your peers, when I explain to them your lawyer's connection to Sharon Raydor, whom you have already all but admitted to stalking on his account?"
When Jimmy's eyes widened in horror, Sharon took his now equally horrified silence as an opportunity to address Morris again. She pressed her finger to the microphone button once more and said, "He did not see that coming. Could it be that that fingerprint really was a stroke of luck for us?" Or to be more precise, since Stroh clearly did not prepare Jimmy for this particular line of questioning, could this be their way of getting him to tell on his partner?
She saw Morris nod at her words. She knew he had caught onto her train of thought, when he proceeded to intimidate Jimmy further. "I can't nail your friend, but I will take what I can get, and at least put you behind bars."
It was a good scare strategy, and Sharon was certain Jimmy would break down and eagerly latch on to the unvoiced, 'unless you give up your partner'. Instead, his next words took her by surprise. "I'm not talking." He sounded quite resolute, too.
Completely thrown, she wondered if there was something Stroh could possibly be holding over Jimmy's head. Usually, it was his power as an attorney that intimidated his accomplices into loyalty, but he no longer had that leverage. She continued to mull that over as Morris incredulously asked, "You're ready to go to prison just to protect him?"
Jimmy shrugged, his earlier fear not fully dissipating, but he seemed much calmer all of a sudden. "He protects me," he said matter-of-factly.
The words almost magically planted a thought in Sharon's head. "He really trusts him," she let out, amazed, not that anybody could hear her. She all but smacked the button to contact Morris. Grasping at straws really, she told him, "Show him those three other deaths." Since those deaths weren't classified as suspicious, much less as murders, they had not been in a rush to address them with Jimmy, but if her hunch was right, now was the best time to do so.
Morris listened, and started leafing through his folder again, but the slight hesitation Sharon noted in his movements let her know he did not quite understand the point of her instruction. She therefore addressed him again. "He trusts Stroh implicitly, but what if those deaths were Stroh's private side project?"
Morris nodded ever so slightly in understanding, and started to spread the pictures of who they believed to be Stroh's additional victims, without hesitation now. "Do you recognize any of these people?" he asked Jimmy.
Sharon took Jimmy's sudden frown as a good sign. "Should I?" he asked.
"Is that a no?" Morris countered.
Jimmy nodded. "I don't know why you're showing those to me, I've never seen them in my life."
"Well, these two," Morris spread two fingers over the first and last photo, "were your friend's teachers, and this," a third finger pointed out the middle picture, "is his ex-girlfriend."
"So?" Jimmy asked, clearly not following.
"They were all found dead around the time three of your other," Morris put up air quotations marks around his next two words, "business ventures took place."
"What?" Incredulously, Jimmy shifted in his chair trying to get a better look at the photos. "He wouldn't," he exclaimed, his fingers flicking the photos forcefully away, "we have a deal." Under his breath, but neither Sharon nor Morris missed it, he disappointedly added, "Doing it together was part of the thrill."
Sharon looked heavenward in relief, and clenched her fist in victory. They were still far from the confession they needed, but it would do for now. She needed to break Jimmy's trust in Stroh, his loyalty to him, and Morris just succeeded in doing so. Perhaps, they could now use that to their advantage. She turned the microphone on again, and said, "Agent Morris, may I have a quick word with you? There's an idea I'd like to run by you."
TBC