The ride home was tense, as Sharon stewed about letting Elliot drive her car again. Brenda kept her jaw clenched tightly, her hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel, her eyes on the road, unwavering. The cabin of the car was filled with the warm aroma of minestrone soup, and lentil soup, and a good old fashioned chicken noodle soup, and Brenda had splurged and added a loaf of warm, fresh baked bread to her order when she ran in to pick it up. As they pulled into the driveway, Sharon was already unbuckling her seat belt. Brenda reached over, laying a hand on her knee.
"Sharon, can you just give me a minute to get the door unlocked? You haven't had much to eat, and you've got that nasty bump, and honestly, if you pass out, I'll have to leave you out here, because I don't think I can carry you into the house."
"Fine. I have a deadline, Brenda. Please keep that in mind." Sharon leaned her head back against the headrest, and scowled.
Brenda rolled her eyes, and got out of the car, grabbing the box of soup from the backseat, and stalked to her door. Unlocking it, she pushed inside, and set the soup on the coffee table, before turning to go back out to the car. As she approached, she saw Sharon glance over, then away. Brenda pulled the door open, and held out her hand, offering her assistance to the dark haired woman. Sharon glared at the outstretched hand, but took it, feeling a small thrill move through her belly at the sensation those fingers had wrought earlier in the day.
Brenda settled Sharon on the couch, then dashed up to her closet, changing into jeans and an old Georgia U tee shirt. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants, and a plain white tee shirt for Sharon, since she had insisted on not wasting time on detouring to her house for an overnight bag. Brenda blinked, realizing that the guest room bed would have to be re-made, and she'd have to sleep in this room again. For the first time. Without Fritz. And with Sharon Raydor under the same roof. She closed her eyes, and blew out the breath she'd been holding, before turning, and heading back down the steps. She handed the change of clothes to Sharon, then headed into the kitchen, where she found clean bowls, and doled out the soup, shoving aside some files and newspapers to make space on the dining table. Sharon stepped out of the half bath, clad in the sweatpants and shirt she'd taken with a haughty sniff. Brenda stopped, her ladle hovering in mid pour, as she glanced up to see the Captain stretching, her breasts pushing against the thin cotton shirt, the pebbled nipples in clear relief. Sharon shrugged her shoulders, working out the tension, then looked up, meeting Brenda's gaze.
"Is everything okay, Brenda? You're very…still." Sharon walked over to the table, as Brenda shook her head, and went back to ladling the soup.
"Just fine, Sharon. How's your head? It's almost time for one of those old horse pills they gave you for the pain." Brenda kept her eyes on the soup, hating the heat throbbing between her thighs. The woman had a concussion, for the love of all that was holy. There'd be no inappropriate behavior until the doctor cleared her!
"Hm? Oh, it's sore. I feel okay, though. Not dizzy, and I'm actually a little hungry, to be honest. The bread smells terrific." Sharon smiled, sitting down at the table, and reaching for the long French loaf. "Besides. The sooner we get dinner over with, the sooner we can move on my case."
Brenda suppressed a smirk, and pushed the bowl of minestrone across the table to Sharon.
"Minestrone. I thought for sure you'd make me eat the chicken noodle. Pope seemed to think you'd force feed it to me." Sharon blew on a spoonful of soup, chuckling.
"Will Pope is an idiot." Brenda replied waspishly, plopping into her chair.
"Well, that much we agree on. I thought you were fond of him, though." Sharon peered at Brenda, buttering the bread.
"Well. He's a good friend. But he's still an idiot."
Sharon decided not to press the issue, and the two women ate in silence for a bit. Brenda glanced at her watch, then jumped up from the table as though she'd been shot.
"Oh for heaven's sake! I have to make a phone call. Excuse me for one moment, please."
Sharon watched as Brenda dashed out of the room, snatching up her cell phone on the way.
Brenda walked into the den, and dialed Fritz's phone number.
"Pick up. Pick up…" she muttered, impatiently.
"Agent Howard". Fritz's baritone came through the line.
"Fritz. It's me. I was hoping that you could wait until tomorrow to come get your things. I know it's inconvenient, but something's come up, and I've got an unexpected house guest." Brenda tapped her foot, as she waited for him to respond.
"You have a guest, and because of that, you don't want me to come over?" Fritz sounded angry.
"That's what I said, yes." Brenda answered coolly.
"It's Pope, isn't it. You've gotten back together with Pope!" Fritz's voice cracked.
"What? You think that I—and Will Pope…that we…"Brenda trailed off into a peal of laughter.
"It's not funny, Brenda Leigh, we took a vow."
"No, no. I know. You're right. It isn't funny. But my houseguest isn't Will Pope, Fritz. For your information, it's Captain Raydor." Brenda pulled her glasses off, and dabbed at the tears of mirth that had gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"Captain Raydor? SHARON Raydor?" Fritz sounded skeptical.
"We're working a case, and she's got a fairly nasty concussion. She lives alone, and so I told the hospital I'd keep an eye on her, so she wouldn't sign out AMA. But she's being ornery about her 72 hour deadline, and I just thought it'd be easier for all involved, if you just waited til tomorrow, when the house was empty, to pick up your things." Brenda spoke quickly, glancing at her watch again.
"That's fine, Brenda. I was going to have a hard time making it over there before 8ish anyway. Thank you for calling. I lo—You take care now." He disconnected before Brenda could reply.
Walking back to the dining room, Brenda detoured, and fetched a bottle out of her purse, dumping a pill into the palm of her hand. She moved to stand next to Sharon, and placed the pill on the table beside her water glass.
"There you go. Now that you've had some food, that shouldn't hit you too hard."
"I need my FID files. I need to talk to my officers. We need the financials from Tao. I don't need a pill for a silly little headache!" Sharon fairly growled.
"Alright then. What's say we move you to your new command post on the couch. You can have the whole coffee table for a work space!" Brenda smiled cheerily.
"Fine." Sharon accepted a hand up, moving to the couch, as Brenda gathered the requisite files and found Sharon's cell phone in the bottom of her tote. She handed them to Sharon, then moved to clear the dishes off the table, giving herself a space to look at her own files.
They worked together in silence, the only sounds the rustle of papers, and the occasional sound of Sharon calling a member of her team, her murmured tones soothing to Brenda's slightly rattled psyche. She glanced up at Sharon, taking in the gentle lines of her profile from across the room, the curtain of her hair falling over her shoulder. 'She's beautiful.' Sighing, she turned back to her paperwork.
As she looked over the financials for the sons, she had the niggling suspicion that she was missing something. Frowning, she grabbed the stack of papers, and plopped down on the couch next to Sharon.
"I'm missing something." She groused.
"Well, let me take a look. You look at Taggart's file, and tell me what I'm missing." Sharon sounded equally irritable.
They swapped files, and Brenda leaned back, adjusting her glasses on her nose, studying the long list of transactions in front of her. Sharon leaned back as well, and Brenda absently ran a hand along her thigh, letting it rest just above her knee. Sharon's breath caught, and Brenda glanced over, smirking.
"You have a concussion, Captain. Don't get any ideas."
"You just surprised me, that's all. I'm not…I don't often have people groping me when I'm working." Sharon said, narrowing her eyes.
"Pity." Came Brenda's reply.
Suddenly, Sharon whipped the file out of Brenda's hand.
"Hey! I was reading that!" Brenda said hotly.
"Look. I knew there was something weird, but look!" Sharon replied excitedly.
She spread the papers from Taggart's financials out next to the ones from Marc James, the younger son of the restaurant owner. She ran her finger down a column of numbers on one page in the James file, pointing at a series of cash back transactions made at a Point of Sale console. Then she moved her finger to Taggart's page, and showed a series of deposits that matched the amounts withdrawn.
"Bingo." Brenda breathed.
"Well. All this proves is that Marc and Taggart knew each other, and that they exchanged money. We don't know what it was for, or if it was illicit in nature." Sharon tempered.
"Oh come on. They're not regular withdraws. They're cash back transactions. It's clear he meant for them not to be noticed. That's suspicious right there." Brenda pulled her glasses off and set them aside, before pressing her fists to her eyes, rubbing the fatigue away.
"Tomorrow, FID will question Taggart about these transactions. If he accepted money to look the other way on something, then he's looking at a full scale IA inquiry." Sharon said, putting the papers back into the file, and setting it to the side.
"You can't ask him about those! Not yet! We have to talk to Marc James first!" Brenda countered.
"What does Marc James have to do with the FID investigation, Brenda?" Sharon asked, evenly.
"Well, don't you think it's odd, that Marc James's baby sister gets killed in his family's business, his father is on his deathbed with cancer, and Marc James hasn't been around to say boo?"
"I suppose. But that still doesn't give me a reason not to speak with Taggart concerning his OIS, and these odd transactions." Sharon gingerly rubbed at the bruise on her face, wincing.
"Because, Captain, don't you think we should have a better idea of what those transactions are about, before we go asking about them? It's not as though we have to search the ends of the earth, after all, Taggart helpfully put Mr. James in the hospital with a well-placed bullet." Brenda sighed, leaning back against the couch cushion, and rolled the tension out of her shoulders.
"Brenda. The whole point of asking Officer Taggart is to find out what the transactions are about."
"Sharon. You should always know the answer to a question before you ask it."
"Is that so?" Sharon paused, thoughtfully. "Do you always know the answers to questions before you ask them?"
Brenda blinked, sensing a dangerous undertone to Sharon's question. She cleared her throat, and plowed ahead.
"When I'm interviewing a suspect, yes, I do. Unfortunately, the people in my day to day life are rarely as easy to dissect and solve as the criminals I deal with. So if you find me asking you a question, chances are, I sincerely want an answer."
Sharon nodded, letting her eyes drift back to the stacks of bank statements between them.
"Fine. We'll go talk to James first. You can do the main interview, but I want to be there, and I want to ask some questions of my own."
"We. You want to sit in on my interview again." Brenda couldn't help the incredulity from creeping into her tone.
"Yes. If you are going to do your usual methods of impeding an FID investigation by making it impossible for me to talk to Taggart before you talk to James, I thought I'd cut out all the drama, and go with you when you speak with James." Sharon shrugged, not understanding the glare Brenda was shooting in her direction.
"My usual methods Captain? Just what are you implying?"
"That you, and your team, have a terrible habit of hiding files, withholding information, and purposely misdirecting the FID team when it suits you. Like, say, for example, sending us to the wrong hospital during an OIS last year?" Sharon arched a brow, narrowing her eyes.
"That was a mistake!" Brenda protested weakly.
"Well, let's not have any mistakes this time around. I'd like to think we can come to another understanding?" Sharon fairly purred, moving closer to Brenda on the couch.
Brenda started to respond, but found her lips otherwise occupied as the dark haired woman pulled her into a slow kiss.