The phone rang, pulling Brenda out of sleep. Disoriented, she lifted her arm to reach across Fritz, and reality came crashing down on her. She snatched her phone off the table, and slid it open, holding it to her ear.
"Deputy Chief Johnson." She said, her voice raspy with sleep.
"Chief, I'm so sorry to wake you. We've got a case." The voice of Lt. Tao came crisply across the line.
"That's all right Lieutenant, tell me what you know." Brenda cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder, as she sat up, peering at the clock. Four in the morning. Fantastic.
"Well, it seems that there was an attempted robbery at a restaurant, a small family owned place. The daughter of the owner was killed. There was another employee, a friend of the family, who witnessed the attack through the window in the kitchen door. There was an officer in the mini-mart next door, he heard the gunshot, and pursued the suspects, advising the armed one to drop his weapon. Suspect fired on the officer, the officer returned fire, shooting to wound. The other suspect escaped on foot. FID is on it's way as well, so we thought you'd want to get here first, before the Wicked Witch." Lt. Tao ended with a small chuckle.
Brenda was pulling on a skirt, and she pressed her lips together, remembering how she'd allowed her team to disrespect the Captain. It seemed her judgment was always off when it came to that woman. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the conversation.
"Thank you, Lieutenant, I'm on my way. I'll be there shortly. Tell the rest of the team that if Sh..if Captain Raydor gets there, to allow her and her team full access, just ask them not to remove any evidence til I arrive. I'm sure she'll agree. We've come to an...an understanding, over the last few days." Brenda finished buttoning the last few buttons on her shirt, and slid the phone closed with a snap.
Less than 20 minutes later, she pulled up to the address, and found Lt. Flynn waiting for her, with his arms crossed.
"Chief. FID is here. They're not touching anything, but they're in our way. Can't you get rid of them?" He asked, sullenly.
"No, Lieutenant, an officer fired his weapon on this scene, and he didn't kill the suspect. We need to proceed with caution, and FID is here to make sure that our case isn't screwed up because of an excessive use of force suit. I'm actually glad to see them." Brenda quirked her lips at the double meaning of her last sentence, knowing that Flynn would view it as an exasperated smirk.
"All right. But she brought Sgt. Elliot with her. And I hate that kid. He's so smug, I just want to punch him." Flynn huffed.
"I know, Lieutenant. Try to keep in under control, for my sake?" Brenda let her southern drawl escape in full force, knowing that it was like kryptonite to the older men on her team.
"Sure thing, Chief." Flynn gave her a tight smile, and then gestured at the restaurant.
Brenda donned the paper shoe coverings and gloves that were set up outside the scene, and pushed the door open, causing the string of silver bells to tinkle. There were tables with the chairs upended, the restaurant had clearly been closed, and the floor had been mopped. Brenda stepped further in, circling the counter, noting that the register wasn't damaged. Near the door of the kitchen, a young woman lay crumpled in a pool of blood, her eyes sightlessly fixed on Brenda, a soundless scream on her lips. Brenda noted that she was maybe 25, if that. So young. She turned, looking for the medical examiner, unable to keep facing the dead girl, and was startled to see the Captain standing near the corner of the counter, a tender look in her eye.
"You okay, Chief?" She asked, stepping forward, putting her hand on the blond woman's arm.
"Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. She was just so young." Brenda used the back of her hand to shove her hair out of her face, and smiled at the Captain. "Thank you, by the way, for not wandering off with my evidence. I appreciate that, and it has certainly endeared you to my team." Brenda chuckled.
"Yes. Well I'm not really worried about my standing with your team, but you're welcome. I've already spoken to the officer, so he's all yours. I thought I'd let you have first run at the suspect, though." Sharon dropped her hand from Brenda's arm, and stepped back.
"Thank you. That's very..thoughtful of you, Cap'n. I appreciate it." Brenda saw the ME coming out of the kitchen, and flagged him down.
"What can you tell me, doc?" She asked, turning her gaze back to the dead girl on the ground as the ME crouched next to her.
"Well, she was shot, point blank range, the casings imply a 9mm, but the bullet is lodged, no exit wound. She's been dead less than 3 hours, judging from the body temp. No defensive wounds, so likely nothing for DNA. Looks like she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We'll know more when we get her to Morales." The young man stood, wincing as his knees made an audible pop.
"Thank you," she turned to the Captain, and gestured to the body, "Captain, are you done with the victim?"
"Yes, Chief. He can take her now." Sharon leaned against the counter, and Brenda went to stand next to her, letting their arms touch, as the coroner's team cleared the body away.
Once the restaurant was empty, Sharon turned to Brenda, a concerned look in her eye.
"You've been crying." It wasn't a question, but Brenda heard the worry behind her words.
"I had to do something very difficult tonight. And even though I know it was the right thing to do, it was still painful. Did you know that Fritz was offered a promotion at the FBI? An executive position, in DC." Brenda looked at the floor, unused to the level of scrutiny she was receiving, unsure of how to deal with it.
"Oh. Well tell him I said congratulations. I'm sure you'll be able to go back to the Washington PD, of course." Sharon stepped back, her voice going cold.
"Sharon." Brenda stepped forward, reaching out to take the Captain's hands in her own. "I'm not going with him. I told him to take the promotion, but that I needed to stay here, in L.A." Brenda squeezed Sharon's hands before letting them drop.
Sharon looked at her for a long moment, her expression neutral.
"You told him to go. Without you." She repeated, slowly.
"Yes. I did. I realized that he and I wanted different things, and that those differences, they weren't the kind you could work through. I'm never going to not be a police officer. That's who I am, at my core. This job is as much a part of my identity as being blond, or female. He wanted me to be a wife first, to not take chances, in case we decided to have kids some day. I can't—that's not me. I can't be what he needs, and I don't think I care to continue trying."
Brenda told Sharon the same thing she told Fritz. She felt all the words she hadn't said to either of them, laying thick on her tongue. That she couldn't go with Fritz. That she couldn't walk away from the woman in front of her, not without leaving her heart behind. That even if Fritz hadn't gotten the promotion, and given her a perfect excuse, she still would've woken up in the guest room at 4 am, when this case dropped, because she couldn't bear the idea of touching him when all she wanted was to touch the Captain. No, those were words she swallowed back, letting them settle in her chest, all angles and sharp parts.
Sharon held her gaze for a beat longer, and then she let a small smile escape. She stepped closer to Brenda, putting a hand on the blond woman's waist.
"Well. In that case," she began, and then leaned in, so her lips brushed the shell of Brenda's ear, "I suppose I should be sending him my consolations, rather than my congratulations." She leaned away, the smile no longer on her face. She moved her hand to Brenda's shoulder, and gave her a lingering once over.
"Are you okay? Did he handle it well?" She asked, remembering that Fritz had a temper.
"Oh. It was fine. He left. The whole conversation took less than an hour, you know? It's amazing how fast you can destroy years worth of commitment. But he thinks I'll come around. He thinks I depend on him, and that I'll see how empty my life is without him, and I'll need him to come home and fill the spaces he left behind. Whatever. It's fine. I'll be fine, and so will he, with some time. Now, let's go talk to the witness, I think we've left him stewing long enough." Brenda smiled tightly, hating how uncomfortable the whole conversation made her feel.
Sharon could sense the tension building, so she just nodded, and spun on her heel, moving towards the door. She'd just stepped onto the worn red skid-mat in front of the door, when something glinted in the light to her left, catching her eye. She turned, and crouched, peering at the small object. Brenda stepped into place next to her, and bent low to look. There, underneath a rack for a free newspaper, was a shell casing that hadn't been circled and tagged.
"I thought the scene was cleared?" Brenda wondered aloud.
"So did I, Chief. But this doesn't match the others. And see here? There's dust around it, I think it's older. Maybe this isn't the first violence perpetrated in this establishment? " She gestured to the casing, not touching it, and Brenda crouched down on her heels to get a better look. Sharon forgot to breathe for a moment, as the Chief's skirt slipped, exposing her thigh more than midway. She cleared her throat, and forced her gaze back to the shell casing, knowing that it was only going to get more difficult from here on out. Sharon had been counting on Brenda's marriage, and her good Southern sensibilities to keep them from stepping too far over the line. But Brenda had left Fritz. Had she done it for Sharon? The Captain snorted to herself. A month long flirtation was hardly grounds for divorce, especially in Los Angeles. There must've been another catalyst. Something else that pushed her over the edge. Sharon put her hands on her knees, and shoved up from the ground, then offered the Chief her hand. Brenda glanced up, and grinned, taking the dark haired woman's hand, and using it to steady herself as she stood.
"Thanks. I don't know what I was thinkin', wearing a skirt at 4 in the morning." She laughed, knowing exactly what she'd been thinking, of those slender fingers tracing ever upward beneath the hem, of Sharon's face as she slid the fabric out of her way. Her face flushed, and she took a step back from the Captain.
"I'll send the Scene team back in here, and have them bag and tag that casing. It's probably unrelated, but just in case, I'd prefer to have it on hand, should FID need it." Sharon kept her tone professional, and turned to hold the door open for the Chief. The two women walked outside, and each found herself accosted by a member of her respective team.