Chapter 5

Brenda rested her head on the back of her chair, grateful for the quiet. There hadn't been a high priority homicide in the last forty-eight hours. Maybe the rains had driven the murderers of high priority victims underground where their vicious crimes would be discovered later. Much later, she hoped.

Will came into her office and looked at her curiously. He thought she might be sleeping, which was unusual for her to do at the office. "Brenda, I need you to resubmit your report on the Petrovna case."

"What? Why?"

"Your report, its . . . its too personal." He plopped the case file, which included Brenda's report, on her desk.

"This murder was personal – to the killer."

"Your report makes it sound as if you knew this Petrovna woman."

Brenda felt she did know her.

"You've moved into her house. Are you assuming her characteristics?"

Brenda looked at him as if he was out of his mind. "Are you asking me if I plan on going into her line of work? Well, I hadn't considered it. Do I plan on getting myself killed? No, not today—"

Will looked at her strangely. "Why are you getting so emotional?"

"Are you suggesting I'm emotional because I'm a woman?"

Now, Will looked at her as if she were the crazy one. "Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off. You look like shit."

Brenda refrained from cursing him out. That wouldn't be very lady-like. Besides, even though they had a history together, he was still her boss – as much as that irritated her. In addition to sleepiness she was also suffering from PMS. "I don't need the day off. I'll be fine."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Brenda didn't want to tell him who she thought she saw in the mirror the previous morning. He'd insist on administrative leave and counseling. Placating him was her best bet. "You're right, Will. As usual." She looked around for her bag. "I am a little tired. What with moving and cleaning." He didn't know that all she had done so far was to get rid of the bed where Zoya had been killed and cram all Zoya's clothes in the closets. She needed to get rid of that stuff. "Maybe I will take the rest of the day off. Rest up, get a good meal and tomorrow be good as new."

Will smiled liked a proud father to an obedient offspring.

Brenda stood up, grabbed her phone from the desk and her bag. "Thanks, Will. I want you to know this is completely out of character for me—"

Will raised his hands in protest. "No need to say more."

Brenda moved to the door, then paused and turned to face him. "But Will, call me if you need me to come back. Work comes first."

"Go," Will said, shooing her out the door.

Brenda looked toward the squad room. "I need to tell them something."

They walked towards her colleagues.

"Deputy Chief Johnson is taking the rest of the day off to attend to personal matters. She will return tomorrow." Will looked around the room. Gabriel had been leaning over Daniels' desk, apparently looking down her shirt and talking quietly. Tao was twirling noodles on chopsticks. Provenza had his feet on the desk napping. Sanchez was playing a game of solitaire. Flynn had just walked in with a sheepish look on his face, no doubt fresh from conspiring with Taylor. "In her absence, I'm in charge."

"Good day now," Brenda said as she hurried to the elevator. She saw Captain Taylor in the hallway.

"Well, Chief, how goes it? You're looking . . . you're looking like a person who lives in a house of a recent murder victim. Seems as if you haven't been able to put those demons to rest."

Brenda pushed the elevator button and turned to glare at him. "Do I need to remind you, Captain, that in our line of work commenting on a woman's appearance could be construed as sexual harassment?"

Taylor smiled, enjoying the banter. He looked her up and down, smirking. "No way anyone would believe that." He chuckled and continued on his way.