"This place looks just like my grandmother's house," quips Buzz. Andy shoots him an irritated look. There are clear plastic slipcovers on the twenty-five-year-old furniture. Dusty knick-knacks cover every surface, and there's several half-dead plants. The framed faces of half a dozen grandchildren smile at the Major Crimes team from the top of a crowded bookshelf full of Reader's Digest Condensed Books in the living room of unit #1110 at 5512 West Olympic Boulevard.

Andy's heart rate is starting to return to normal. He had no idea what to expect when entering the condo across the hall from Sharon's condo. Tao had been vague on the phone. The entire team tagged along, even Provenza who was anxious to get home and share the rare bottle of Sine Qua Non wine and dark chocolates with Patrice. Provenza figured he'd save the rest of the expensive items for gift giving occasions, or any time he found himself in hot water with her.

"I'm in the master bedroom," shouts Tao.

Leading the way down the hall, Sharon is first through the bedroom door. She stops in her tracks when she sees the pictures covering almost every inch of the wall opposite the bed. There's pictures of her wrapped in a towel, applying her makeup, taking her bra off, reading in bed, eating a sandwich, talking to Rusty, painting her toenails, brushing her hair, and napping on the couch. It's her life, and it's right in front of her in living color. The rest of the team enters the room; all conversation stops as each person realizes what's on the wall. Buzz lowers his video camera; he's too uncomfortable to continue filming. Andy steps up behind Sharon, and places his hands on her shoulders to offer support. There are so many pictures. She's dazed, and doesn't even know where to look. The picture right in front of where she's standing is of her and Andy; although, Andy's face is mostly obscured, buried in her neck which is tilted back causing her hair to flow away from her face. Her eyes are closed; her lips are plump, almost bruised looking and turned up at the corners in a lazy half smile. Both her arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Andy's tongue is slightly visible, licking just above her clavicle. The fingers of his right hand wrap around and grasp the side of her neck. His left hand grazes her breast. She remembers how happy she was in the moment. Andy had gladly helped rearrange her living room furniture that afternoon. They had laughed and teased each other. It felt so good to be with a man who wanted to help her and spend time with her, instead of just arguing with her. She's still trying to get comfortable with the notion of having a man in her life who is on her side. All these thoughts flit through her mind while staring at the picture. She knows her team is standing behind her looking at intimate images of her, but she's unable to move. Andy squeezes her shoulders.

It's very quiet until Tao says, "When I got here, I rang the doorbell and banged on the door for at least five minutes, but no one answered, so I let myself in using a key from the key ring that was in the ignition of the abandoned vehicle. I did a quick search to make sure no one was hiding inside or on the balcony. Then I snooped around a little and found a lease agreement in the desk in the living room. Apparently, Mrs. Cooper has sublet this condo to someone named Clinton Williams for six months. That's not all I found. Follow me."

Tao leads the team into the dining room. There are a couple of laptop computers on the long, rectangular table, a pair of headphones plugged into one of the computers, a printer/scanner, two reams of printer paper, several ink cartridges, a notebook and a couple of pens, a manila folder, three flash drives still in the package, and a pizza box from Dion's Pizza. Opening the folder, Tao holds up a picture of Brenda Leigh Johnson. It's a head and shoulders photo that appeared, years ago, in the Los Angeles Police Beat newsletter. Provenza flips open the notebook; Brenda Leigh Johnson's name is scrawled across the first page. Under her name, LOCATION is written in bold lettering, followed by a question mark. There are several more pages of notes which Provenza reads aloud. The notes are mostly random phrases that pertain to Rusty, and several paragraphs, written in the same handwriting, vividly describing Sharon's hair. When Provenza realizes what he's reading, he closes his mouth and continues to read silently. The writer goes into great detail about how he's going to wash her hair for her, massaging her scalp with his strong fingers. Then he'll watch her hair dry as it falls onto her bare shoulders. When it's dry, he'll use her hairbrush to brush it out, then pin it up, leaving her shoulders, neck and back naked and exposed to his lips. Provenza cringes inwardly as he steals a glance at his captain who is not making eye contact.

Andy's cell phone rings, shattering the awkward silence in the room. He answers it, and walks into the kitchen to talk.

Tao says, "Captain, I'm betting the surveillance of your condo originated from this table. These computers are password protected, but with a little time we'll be able to access the hard drives. Also, it seems to me that the signature on the lease is not the same handwriting that's in the notebook which indicates at least two people are involved."

"That's correct, Lieutenant," confirms Sharon. "There are two people involved that we know of, and at least one of them is dead. He's the blonde man who was walking in the hallway yesterday when the intruder fled my condo followed by Andy. Identification found on his body states that he's Clinton Williams, but that's a stolen identity. We don't yet know his true identity. I'm pretty sure of the name of the other man who posed as a plumber to access my home. He is Mark Evans, and he spent over two decades in San Quentin for rape, robbery, and stalking. He's the one who attempted to run over Andy, and I feel sure he's the one responsible for all those pictures hanging in the bedroom. I knew him, barely, in 1994 when he worked as a lawyer in the same firm with my ex-husband."

"But what does Brenda Leigh Johnson have to do with it, or Rusty for that matter?" asks Provenza.

"I have absolutely no idea," Sharon answers wearily.

"It appears only one person is living here. There's one toothbrush, one razor, and one comb in the bathroom," states Sanchez.

"I've been through every room while I was waiting on you guys. Other than what you've already seen, there's really nothing else of interest," Tao says.

"I've got a couple of team members from Robbery-Homicide on their way here to dust for prints, and remove evidence," announces Detective Nelson. Turning to Sharon, Nelson says, "There will be a detective stationed outside 24/7 to make sure no one attempts to enter this condo or yours. You should call it a day. There's not much else we can do this evening, and we're scheduled to meet with Threat Management at 9 a.m. tomorrow. The same detective who tailed you last night will be on your detail tonight."

"Fine, I'll see you in the morning," Sharon tells the detective before walking into the kitchen to join Andy. Touching his shoulder lightly with her left hand, Sharon gets his attention as he's finishing the phone call. Andy turns to Sharon, and staring into her eyes he asks if she's okay.

"I could ask you the same thing," she says.

He has to resist the temptation to wrap her in his arms. "Well, our lives are certainly not boring," he says with a grin. "I just got off the phone with a supervisor at San Quentin." Reaching for her hand, Andy walks out of the kitchen with her. "Come on, Detective Nelson needs to hear this."

They join the others in the dining room, and Andy says, "Mark Evans was paroled from San Quentin 40 days ago." Holding his phone up for Sharon and the detective to see, he says, "They texted me his most recent picture and address. He's supposedly living with his sister in the Hollywood Hills."

Staring at the small screen, Detective Nelson says, "He definitely looks like the plumber to me. I'm going to pick up my partner, and we're going to pay him a little visit." Looking at Sharon, she says, "I'll let you know what I find out."

Turning to Andy, Sharon says, "Let me pack a bag, and then let's get out of here and get something to eat."

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," he says.

Following Sharon out of the neighbor's condo, Andy stays by her side when she walks across the hall and enters her front door. Stepping inside, the same feeling she had earlier in the morning hits her again. Her home doesn't feel like her home anymore. A strange man has been through her things, has studied her, and is still out there. A shiver runs through her. Instinctively, she wants to leave, but she needs some clothes and toiletries, so she gets busy gathering her things. Packing a small bag, she wonders how long she'll need to stay with Andy. It could be a few days, or a few weeks. Even with police protection, she doesn't want to be alone in her condo until this ordeal is over. She's comfortable with Andy; she feels safe with him. He has respected her need to take their relationship slowly. The not insignificant matter of where she will sleep simply hasn't been an issue. He has a two-bedroom house, but he uses the second bedroom as an office, so there's no bed in there. She shared his bed last night, and it wasn't a problem. Frankly, she enjoyed it. Years of sleeping alone made her super sensitive to his presence next to her, but once she started to relax she found it difficult to keep from touching him. Were it not for his injuries, she doubts she could resist the temptation to spoon with him. Just imagining his body flush against her, his arms surrounding her, his head near hers on the pillow makes her skin tingle, and her heart beat faster.

They pick up take-out food before heading to his house. The smell of Chinese dumplings makes her mouth water. She changes into casual clothes before joining him at the kitchen table. "I'm glad no surveillance equipment was found in your house," she says.

"Yeah, me too." Spooning rice on his plate, Andy is trying hard to suppress a chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"I was just thinking about the look on Provenza's face when he realized he was reading a sexy description of your hair, which, by the way, was very accurate."

Looking down at her plate, she pauses before glancing up and meeting his gaze. "This whole situation is so bizarre. One minute I'm mortified and the next I'm scared to death. Andy, Mark Evans is a violent man. He has sexually assaulted more than one woman, and he considers you to be a threat."

"I'm aware, and I feel horrible that I let him get away yesterday. I spent this afternoon thinking about retirement. I'm not a young man; I'm slower than I used to be, but I swear you're safe with me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. We will catch this guy."

"I'm not doubting you. I just want this to be over." Picking up chopsticks, she digs into her meal, and changes the subject. Just the thought of Andy retiring is upsetting. She would miss him terribly, not just physically, but also his vast experience and knowledge. Just his presence often calms her, and helps her to think rationally. He's also an asset when dealing with loved ones of victims. What he brings to the table could never be matched by a younger man. Of course, she didn't always think so highly of him, but time has opened her eyes and her heart to the real Andy Flynn.

After dinner, they move into the living room. Sitting side by side on the couch, they talk about the dead man with the stolen identity. Andy is sure it's the same man he first saw in the lobby of Sharon's building, and then later ran past in the hallway as he chased the intruder out of her condo.

"I can't figure out what connects the two men, and why would a man I barely knew over twenty years ago be stalking me now?"

"Maybe there's more to it than that," suggests Andy.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Mark Evans is definitely obsessed with you, but what was all that other stuff about Chief Johnson and Rusty?" asks Andy.

Shaking her head, she says, "I don't know." Struggling to keep her eyes open, she stifles a big yawn. It's still early in the evening, but she's exhausted. When he notices how tired she is, he suggests they head to bed. His bruised and battered body aches, and he just wants to stretch out.

Sharon changes into her nightgown in the bathroom then scrubs her face and brushes her teeth. She's not normally nervous when alone with Andy, but oddly she's nervous now, and this makes her fidgety. Walking out of the bathroom, she sits on the edge of the bed, and arranges her things on the nightstand. There's her glass of water which she has to have even though she only takes a sip or two. Next to the water is a paperback book she has been trying to read for weeks; she hasn't even made it through the first chapter because she always falls asleep. Her phone is also on the nightstand because it's not unusual for it to ring in the middle of the night. She checks to make sure it's fully charged; as she puts it back down, she accidentally tips over the glass of water which prompts her to jump up off the bed and head to the bathroom for a towel. Snatching a towel off the hook above the countertop, she manages to get it tangled in the soap dish which hits the floor and shatters in a dozen pieces. Rushing out of the bathroom, she runs straight into Andy, almost knocking him down and elbowing his bruised rib. He doubles over in pain. "Shit," is the only word that comes out of her mouth. She doesn't know what to do first; wipe up the water before her phone gets wet or comfort Andy, so she tries to do both. He's confused, and not sure what's going on, but he's aware that Sharon is upset. She's starting to cry. Letting go of Andy, she crosses over to the nightstand to clean up the mess. Watching her for a few seconds, he realizes that she's losing it. The past two days have taken a toll. She has been so strong, but now she's starting to crack.

"Let me do that," he says as he takes the towel out of her hand. She sits on the side of the bed, and watches him clean with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I made a mess in the bathroom too," she says.

He just grins at her, and heads to the bathroom. She can hear him picking up the broken pieces and tossing them in the trash. That's followed by the sounds of him brushing his teeth. When he's finished, he takes his clothes off and tosses them in the dirty clothes hamper. Then he removes his dark green robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door, and puts it on before walking back into the bedroom. Heading to the bed, he sits beside her. Using his uninjured right arm, he draws her into a hug and kisses the top of her head. She looks up at him with tears shining in her eyes and says, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replies. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It has been a rough couple of days."

"You can say that again."

He brushes the tears off her left cheek with his index finger. She's staring in his dark eyes. A wave of tenderness washes over her, and she lightly plants her lips on his. It's meant to be a simple kiss. She doesn't want to injure him again; however, it quickly turns into something deeper and more complex. He shifts closer to her, and deepens the kiss. She doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands. He doesn't have that problem. His hands are moving all over her body: in her hair, on her neck, her back, her breasts. The silky nightgown is thin. He can feel her nipples grow hard in the palms of both his hands. He pushes her neckline down as far as it will go. Pulling his mouth away from hers, he lowers his head to put his mouth on her left breast. He gently nips and sucks the pebbled flesh between his lips while she buries her hands in his hair. Increasing the pressure with his mouth makes her moan, and throw her head back. The sounds she's making fill the room, and mix with the sound of her phone ringing. It rings four times before they're conscious of it. He moves his head away. She reaches for the phone on the nightstand just as it stops ringing. They're both breathing heavily.

"That was probably Detective Nelson," he says. "You should call her back."

Adjusting her nightgown, she says, "Yeah, but I need a minute."

Before the words leave her mouth, the phone starts ringing again. Still slightly out of breath, she answers it.

"Captain, is everything okay?" asks the detective.

"Yes," Sharon answers. "What did you find out about Mark Evans?"

"He's not living with his sister. She told me he got a job and moved out a month ago, and she hasn't seen or talked to him since. She claims she doesn't know or care where he's working or living. I'm going to talk to his probation officer in the morning to see if I can find out more details. I also issued an APB on him a few minutes ago."

Sharon is listening to the detective, but she's distracted by Andy shifting on the bed next to her. He's considering taking a cold shower, but standing up and walking out of the room would be a little difficult at the moment.

"Captain, are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here. You did a great job today. Try to get some rest tonight, and I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks. You get some rest too. Good night."

Resting isn't exactly what's on her mind as she puts the phone down on the nightstand and turns to Andy.