Brenda paced the hallway outside of Sharon's room. She'd just spun on her heel to begin another rotation, when Will Pope materialized in front of her.
"Brenda?" He asked, surprised. "What are you doing here, still? I thought you'd given your statement?"
"Will. She was riding with me when she was assaulted. Don't you think I ought to be here? The beats are already canvassing that neighborhood, and Tao is running the money for the partner, and Flynn and Provenza are looking for the younger brother. Detective Gabriel is bringing my car, and Sgt. Elliot is driving her car here. If she's not cleared for driving, if that bump turns out to be a concussion, then I'll have Sgt. Elliot drive it to her place, and I'll take her home in my car." Brenda replied shortly.
"Um. Okay then. So, I haven't had a chance to read the statements, what happened this afternoon?" Will leaned against the wall, and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Well. We spoke with Elijah James, the restaurant owner. He gave us some good info, turns out he's dying of cancer, you see. Bed-ridden. So he was going to leave the restaurant to his daughter, our victim Alessia. The witness, Jerome, was with the business from the beginning, because he's the owner's best friend. Turns out, when we spoke with Jerome, he underplayed his role in the business. According to Erik, the older son, Jerome is a junior partner. Apparently, when they were younger, it was Jerome's idea to start a soul food restaurant, but he couldn't get the money or he didn't have the follow through. Elijah got the money, and, it seems, the girl, in the process. He brought Jerome on, but wrote the contracts so that he'd never have a controlling interest in the business. It's split, 60/40, in favor of the James family. So Jerome isn't hurting, but according to Erik, he's very old fashioned, and chafed at the idea of playing junior partner to a 20something female. Anyway, when we, when Captain Raydor and I were on our way back to the station, Lt. Tao called to let me know the older boy was at the restaurant. When Sh—Captain Raydor interviewed the owner, he'd told her about the owners of the mini-mart where the officer who fired on the suspects had been, prior to the incident. Seems they're Russian, in with a little bit of the local crime scene, let the dealers deal on their property, in exchange for theft protection and what not. Shar—that is, Captain Raydor had the sense that they might have some information, so while I went to meet with Erik James, she went up the street to the mini-mart. She spoke with the owner for about half an hour, then went to the car, and placed a 13 minute phone call into FID. She was on her way down the street to the restaurant, when someone stepped out the alleyway between the store and the restaurant, and bashed her head. They dragged her into the alleyway, stole her purse, thankfully not her gun and badge, but maybe they didn't know she was an officer, and left her unconscious behind the dumpster, where I found her. I dialed 911, checked for a pulse, sent Erik James for plastic bags and tape to bag her hands in case there was defensive evidence, and then I waited for the paramedics to arrive, and I rode over here with them. It's been 39 minutes, and they haven't come out to update me on what's going on with her, and frankly, I'm starting to lose my temper. Now here we are. That's the summary." Brenda sighed, and leaned against the wall next to Will.
"Well, so it sounds like it was a standard mugging, and not related to the case?" He asked.
"So far, that's the going consensus. I'm withholding judgment until more information is known. The fact that they only took her purse is promising. But why hit her twice? She was knocked out from the first one, most likely. So did she wake up halfway through, and get punched in the face? I don't understand her injuries, and that's bothering my sensibilities. Besides which, who mugs someone in broad daylight, in a neighborhood that's crawling with cops because of an investigation? It's not sitting right with me, and I'm frustrated that I let time get away from me, and left her in a position to be attacked." She pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes.
"Well, Brenda, you can't blame yourself. You were both questioning witnesses relevant to the case. It's not as though you're joined at the hip." Will put his hand on her shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly.
Brenda felt heat flood through her, as the memory of the elevator, and effectively being joined at the hip with Sharon Raydor played through her brain. Just then, the door to Sharon's room opened, and the doctor stepped out. He turned to face Brenda and Will.
"She's awake, but groggy. She has a concussion, and she'll need to be monitored for 24 hours. She says she lives alone, so we'll likely keep her here overnight." The doctor glanced down at the chart in his hand.
"NO! No, I mean, that won't be necessary. I'll stay with her, overnight. I've dealt with concussed officers before, my husband is an FBI agent, and gets knocked on the head quite a bit." Brenda spoke rapidly, dismayed at the idea of Sharon being in this place for one minute longer than she had to.
Will blinked at her, owlishly.
"Brenda. You're going to spend, voluntarily, the next 24 hours, playing nursemaid to Sharon Raydor?" His voice rose in incredulity.
"Yes sir, I am. You know as well as I do, if we leave her here unattended, she'll walk out AMA, and go back to working this case, because of that stupid 72 hour deadline. At least if I'm around, she can run a command post from bed, and maybe actually give that ridiculously hard head time to heal. Trust me. I'm about to save the department a world of misery." She smiled sweetly, then turned back to the doctor.
"Can we see her, now?"
"Sure. Just, try and keep things low key. I'll tell the nurse to start processing her discharge papers." The doctor snapped the chart closed, and moved down the hallway.
Brenda pushed open the door to the Captain's room, and gestured Will inside.
"After you, Chief?" She drawled.
Will shot her one last look of consternation, then went into the room, smiling.
"Captain Raydor. I'm glad you're okay." Will stood at the foot of her bed, looking down with half a smile.
"Thank you, Chief Pope." Sharon replied, wincing as she moved to sit up.
"Lay down, for heaven's sake!" Brenda piped up from her position near the door.
Sharon glanced over at her, then back at Pope.
"I gave my statement earlier. Did you need more information? He hit me from behind, so I can't give you a description, unfortunately." She said, her voice tired.
"No, no. I read your statement. I uh, I just wanted to come and check on you." He stammered.
Brenda watched as a flush spread over the back of his neck Her eyes narrowed. She remembered that flush. That was his, 'I'm attracted to you, but I'm not going to say it yet.' flush. She'd been on the receiving end of that flush a number of times before he finally acted on it. The urge to shoot him in the ankle washed over her, and she clenched her fists, then took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
"Cap'n, they wanted to keep you overnight for observation, since you have a concussion, and so—"
Sharon cut her off.
"Unacceptable. I have things to do." Her tone was stern,
"Yes, well, I figured as much. But they're adamant about you being under the care of a-"
Sharon cut her off again.
"I'll sign out AMA. I am not staying the night."
"Oh for heaven's sake! Would you let me finish?" Brenda exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.
"I fail to see what you could say that would have any bearing on my discharge, but go ahead."
Brenda scowled, but continued.
"Since I knew you'd never agree to stay here, I convinced the doctor to let me take you home, as long as I promise to keep an eye on you for the next 24 hours. That way, you can still be in touch with FID for your deadline, but you can run your command from my couch."
"YOUR couch?" Sharon hissed, glaring at Brenda.
"Well. I have a cat. And I can't leave both of you unattended, now can I? Poor Joel needs to eat, after all." Brenda replied sweetly, clenching her hands behind her back.
"This is ridiculous. I am going home. To MY house. BY MYSELF. I will be fine." Sharon growled through her teeth, and shoved her covers back, swinging her legs around.
She used the arm of the bed to pull herself up, and then felt the world go wobbly as she swayed on her feet. Her vision doubled, but she felt strong arms catch her around the waist.
"Whoa there. I got you. Let's sit back down for a minute, okay?" Pope's voice seemed to be coming from very far away, but Sharon let herself be guided back onto the bed.
"You win, Chief Johnson. But I won't need the full 24 hours, I'm sure, and you will not interfere with my investigation, is that clear?"
Brenda flexed her jaw before answering.
"Yes, Cap'n Raydor. Crystal clear. I'm going to go place us an order for some take out. Is there anything you're in the mood for? Doctor said you might be a little queasy from the concussion...maybe some soup or something?"
"I'm not hungry." Sharon answered tersely.
"I don't cook. It's take out or taking your chances with whatever might be in my refrigerator. What'll it be?" Brenda chirped back, grinning.
"Soup is fine. I prefer minestrone, or lentil." Sharon kept her gaze trained on the ceiling, avoiding Brenda's probing stare.
"Alrighty then. I'm just going to step out and make that call. Holler if you need me, Cap'n!"
She nodded at Will, then stepped into the hallway, and leaned against the wall. What on earth was she thinking? 24 hours of a very irritable Sharon Raydor in her home seemed like the worst idea she'd ever had. Worse, even, than staying on with Pope after he'd admitted that he was married. This was bad judgment to the extreme, it was, and yet, Brenda couldn't help the slight quickening of her pulse as she thought about being alone with that woman, grumpy or not.
Sharon leaned against the papery thin pillows of the hospital bed, and peered at Will Pope out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't figure out why the man was still hovering, and giving her that look.
"Was there anything else, Chief Pope?" She finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the room.
"Hmm? Oh, no. No. I should probably get back, and see how things are going at the station. Good luck with Brenda. You're going to need it. She's a fan of chicken soup curing everything from bullet wounds to a broken heart. I hope you weren't set on minestrone. If she gets too overbearing, call me. I'll come rescue you, and keep watch at your place." He chuckled, then stepped forward to take her hand.
"I'm really glad you're okay, Sharon. The department needs you. You take care." He squeezed her fingers in his, then turned sharply on his heel, and walked out, nodding at Brenda as he passed, a small smile playing at his lips. He couldn't wait for his phone to ring, an exasperated Sharon Raydor in need of his assistance. Those two wouldn't last 5 hours. He whistled a short tune, as he pressed the button for the elevator.
Brenda watched him leave, and narrowed her eyes. He had feelings for Sharon, she was sure. She heard that tuneless whistle, and that confirmed it. She'd heard him whistle that after she'd agreed to go to dinner with him, all those years ago. She couldn't blame him, after all, Sharon was beautiful, capable, smart, and ambitious to a fault. And Will always had liked the strong, domineering sorts. Still, her hand twitched towards her sidearm as she watched him almost skip onto the elevator. The mental image of shooting him in the ankle kept her from hearing the tinny voice coming through her phone.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" She asked, clearing the giggle out of her throat.
"Your order will be ready in 20 minutes. Total is $37.44." The voice replied, sounding impatient.
"Thank you so much. We'll be there in 2 shakes of a lamb's tail." Brenda simpered, before closing her phone.