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A Tangled Web (32)

"Andy."

Sharon was mildly surprised at his unexpected appearance. Less so at the brief, concerned once-over he gave her – that, she'd been getting a lot of, these last couple of days.

She stepped back from the doorway.

"Please, come in."

Flynn smiled, adjusting the small shopping bag he carried in his arms. "Captain. Sharon. How are you feeling?" Another quick inspection, and he said honestly, "You look good." A beat, then, "I mean, better." He cleared his throat. "Sorry for showing up unannounced. I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all. Rusty and I were just making dinner." Sharon waved her hand toward the living room in renewed invitation. "Please."

"Yeah – thanks." A little awkwardly, the lieutenant stepped inside, turning to her as she closed the door. "We had a couple of uniforms drop off your car," he explained, "and I figured, you know, 'hey, why not catch a ride with them, check if Sharon needs anything'?" His eyes were still studying her. "You feeling better?"

Sharon dipped her head slightly, "I am." Then she gave a sympathetic look to the large brace that covered his left arm. "How's your shoulder?"

"What, this? It's fine," said Andy dismissively, "doesn't even need this thing on it, but the doctors won't clear me for active duty unless I leave in on for at least ten days…" He rolled his eyes. "You know how they are."

Her answer was an amused hum.

Andy put the bag on the small table by the door, and glanced over to the kitchen. "Evening, kid."

Rusty had to crane his neck a little, with his hands and half an eye still on the stir fry. "Hi, Lt. Flynn." He gave the man a slightly suspicious look, then turned his full attention back to the frying pan.

Sharon and Andy exchanged another amused look.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your evening," the lieutenant said apologetically, "I was gonna call when we left the station, but the damn phone ran out of battery again…" He rolled his eyes in disgruntled resignation. "Anyway, I'm gonna get out of your hair. I just wanted to check how you were doing, and drop off your car keys…." He pulls the keychain from his pocket as he spoke, and placed it on top of the table as well.

"Thank you," said Sharon. There was a momentary silence between them, in which she waited patiently as Andy seemed to want to add more; when he didn't say anything else for a few seconds, she smiled and asked, "Would you like to join us for dinner?", at the same time that he started to say, "There's one other thing."

Another brief pause, as they each waited for the other to speak, until Andy decided to answer her question first:

"Oh, no – I mean I'd love to, normally, thanks for the invite, don't get me wrong," he hurried to amend, "but I don't want you to go to any extra trouble."

"It's no trouble," Sharon assured with a friendly smile, "if you haven't already eaten, and you don't mind stir fry, we have room for a third. Rusty," she added, "would you mind frying the chicken in a different pan from the vegetables?"

"Yup," the boy acknowledged economically.

"No, really, Sharon…" Flynn sighed at her look, and rubbed his neck, "I don't wanna put you and the kid out. And you're supposed to be resting."

She responded with a vague smile, but said nothing; she was absolutely not rehashing the resting argument with him, too.

It felt…strange, having so many people worry about her. Not bad, of course, but not exactly comfortable either. A little…bittersweet, almost.

"You said there was one other thing…?" she asked, changing the subject.

Andy's countenance turned immediately graver. He nodded. "Yeah. Provenza's probably gonna call you tomorrow morning with the details," he told her, "but I figure you'd want to know as soon as you can."

Anxiety fluttered in her stomach. If Lt. Provenza was going to call her, that meant – "There's a problem with the case…?" Damn it. With Danny dead, they had so little to go on, even with her testimony of what he'd told her, and Danny's friend Jimmy was dead too...two young men victims of Erik Jensen's vicious revenge scheme and so little to tie him to their deaths…

"No." Andy's voice broke into her dark thoughts. "No, there's no problem. That dirtbag isn't gonna be a problem for anyone anymore – except the California state prison system." He gave her a serious look. "We got him, Sharon. For all of it. Everything."

Her lips formed a silent 'oh'.

The previous afternoon…

" – and you said that the Captain mentioned Danny telling her about a disposable cell that he was using to talk to Jensen." Tao was using his explanation tone, the one that sometimes made them wonder just how long he could go without having to stop for breath. "Now – we did find a phone in his car, burned along with the rest of his stuff. We just assumed that it was his regular cell," he admitted, "since there wasn't a second one anywhere around to make us think otherwise. But after hearing about this disposable cell business, I asked the lab to process the phone we found, and although the device was destroyed…" he held up an evidence bag with what looked like a minuscule piece of charred plastic in it, "they managed to salvage the card."

"Does that mean we have evidence that Murray called Jensen?"

"If it's around the time of the young man's death," Hobbs followed Provenza's question, "that would go a long way toward placing our guy at the crime scene. Might give me some extra leverage with his lawyer."

Mike grimaced. "Uh, not exactly. Like I said, the actual phone was destroyed, and the card didn't have a call log – but," he pre-empted Provenza's displeased grumble, "it turns out, Danny Murray did what one isn't supposed to do with disposable cells: he programmed a number into memory."

"Jensen's?" guessed Provenza, and Mike sighed as he admitted:

"No. It's an unknown number, from another disposable phone. But that makes me think that Jensen bought a pair: gave one to Danny, kept the other for himself. That's why we couldn't find any records of communication between them."

"I don't get it," frowned Hobbs. "You didn't find a phone on Jensen when you brought him in."

"That's because the bastard probably dumped it somewhere." Flynn was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, the same menacing scowl on his face that he'd been wearing for two days.

"But he didn't think to turn it off, before dumping it," said Mike, "so we were able to call it and get its current location." He pointed to his computer screen, that showed a map and some coordinates. "Julio and Amy are on their way there to look for it."

Provenza hummed his satisfaction. "What do you know, our mastermind planner missed this one detail."

Mike gave a lopsided nod. "And this location is between the Vernon control room where Jensen was hiding, and Sun Plaza. He could've thrown away the phone on his way to the mall. If Julio and Amy find it, and if it's got Jensen's prints on it…"

Now…

Sharon frowned as she listened, two fingers pressing absently against her temple.

"Did they find the phone?"

Andy nodded. "It was in a dumpster in some back alley off Alameda. And it had that scumbag's prints all over it – not to mention a couple of incriminating texts, and call logs showing a two-minute call to Murray's disposable cell number, right around the time of his death."

She swallowed. "So we have proof that Jensen and Murray were in contact," she murmured.

Proof outside of her testimony. Irrefutable proof.

"We got better than that, too," said Andy. "That side road where we found the dumpster with the cell? It didn't have car access. So what was Jensen doing there? Obviously he didn't walk from Vernon to the mall, that's almost ten miles – but if he drove, why would he dump the phone on a road with no car access? He'd have had to park, get out, walk over…"

Sharon followed his reasoning; it didn't make any sense for Jensen to have gone out of his way to dump the cell. But – right, obviously, he wouldn't have walked the ten miles, either, but if he didn't walk and he didn't drive, how... "Oh my God," it dawned on her suddenly, "the missing bike."

Another nod. "Sanchez remembered that you asked us to look for that first kid's bike, back in the beginning… we'd figured that someone had just stolen it after Donnell jumped off the bridge, right?" He sighed. "Turns out you were right to want to look for it."

It was almost hard to believe. "Erik Jensen had Jimmy's bike?" At no point had they even considered that – but then, they'd only found out the connection between the two men shortly before Jensen had blown up the garage. At that point, Jimmy's death must've taken a back seat, and who would bother to wonder about his missing bicycle…? "Did you find it?"

Flynn nodded for the third time. "We searched a ten-block radius around Sun Plaza… figured that was about as far as he'd walk," he explained. "Found it near a market on 67th. That bastard had even secured it to a bike rack, chain and everything." His jaw, Sharon noticed, clenched a little when he talked about Jensen.

She shook her head. She was having a hard time putting it all together, now. There were just … so many details, details that weren't fresh in her mind anymore. "What does that mean for the case? You said you had him," she remembered. "Did Jensen confess to Danny's murder, in exchange for a deal…?"

"The case is over," said Andy. "Two counts of second-degree murder, for Murray and Donnell. And we got him for blowing up that parking garage, too. It's over Sharon," he repeated in a serious tone, looking her in the eye. "This afternoon his asshole lawyer signed the deal. Life in prison. No parole."

It was still less than Jensen deserved, in Andy's opinion, but 'having his face beaten in by LAPD officers' wasn't on the list of constitutionally approved punishments for crimes.

Another time, that wouldn't have stopped him, maybe, but now… Now things were more… complicated. He had to mind stuff like this. Well – okay, technically he'd always had to mind that stuff, but now he actually tried a little harder.

"Life…?" Sharon's eyes had widened slightly, and there was confusion in her tone. "Andy, did you just say life without parole? That's not enough evidence to prove two second-degree murders. Why would Jensen agree to that kind of sentence without a trial?"

He didn't bother to contain the smirk, or keep the satisfaction out of his voice. "'cause Hobbs gave him a reason to."

Earlier that day…

" –must be joking me, I mean, I thought yesterday that we were getting somewhere, except now we seem to have progressed backwards." The lawyer's accent and the way he prolonged syllables only made his words sound more condescending. "You went from the absurd first-degree murder charge, to that plus two second-degree murder charges?"

"Funny what difference a day can make, no?" Provenza gave him an affable smile.

He and Hobbs sat across Jensen and his lawyer in the interview room, waiting calmly as the latter expressed his irritation with their newest proposal.

"Need I remind you," the man said impatiently, "that you can't even place my client at the scene of Danny Murray's death – and I'm not even going to dignify the other charge with a response. That disturbed young man jumped. off. a bridge," he spelled out. "Case closed."

"Jumped as a consequence of Erik here causing him to come into contact with an overdose of a deadly psychotropic toxin," Hobbs corrected pleasantly.

Mr. Page waved a hand, "Yes, your version of the facts makes a fascinating story," he told them, "except a few shards of glass and a lot of suppositions don't constitute evidence. There's video showing the jump," he pointed out, "and witnesses to say that Mr. Donnell had used the toxin, on his own, previously. So please – let's stop wasting time on this." His eyebrows arched. "You're about three hours from habeas corpus kicking in, and I don't see that you've even decided what to charge my client with yet. Honestly Andrea, I was expecting better."

"I'm always sorry to disappoint," she assured him. "But give me another chance, Peter. The day's not done yet."

"It's almost done, as far as we're concerned. If you keep Dr. Jensen here even a second longer than those three days, without formally charging him, I'm going to move for a breach of his constitutional rights –"

"Oh we absolutely wouldn't want that," Provenza put in. "So since we all seem to share a desire for a speedy resolution – why don't we skip to the part where your client confesses what he did to Murray, and then tells us what happened to James Donnell? I think we can fill in the blanks on the two garage explosions, ourselves," he added dryly.

Page narrowed his eyes. "We seem to be having some sort of communication problem here, Lieutenant." He cut a warning look to Jensen, who had snorted in amusement, and the man sobered up again with an eye roll. Page continued: "We've already explained to you what happened. It was a case of poor judgment on my client's part, with some rather significant property damage, yes, but what happened to Captain Raydor was Dr. Jensen's panic reaction, and not first-degree attempted murder. We'll plea to two concurrent counts of arson, and one attempted voluntary manslaughter," he concluded. "Fifteen years, with the possibility of parole after nine."

Hobbs and Provenza exchanged a glance.

"I usually make a point out of disagreeing with defense attorneys – on principle, you understand, nothing personal," said the lieutenant in an agreeable tone, "but in this instance I think you're right, Mr. Page. We do have a communication problem. Because unless my hearing is going," he arched his eyebrows meaningfully, "that wasn't the deal that DDA Hobbs put on the table."

The lawyer rolled his eyes. "Okay, we're just going in circles here. You. Can't. Prove. first-degree attempted murder," he reiterated emphatically, "and we'll gladly argue that in a trial if need be. You're just going off of a completely alternative scenario that you've made up for yourselves!" he informed them. "Or, at best, making wild assumptions based on Captain Raydor's statement, which frankly I think we can all take with a grain of salt, considering that she arrived at the hospital unconscious and with drugs in her system…"

In electronics, Mr. Page's last words caused some unrest.

"How does he know that?" Buzz sounded wary – this wasn't information that Jensen's lawyer was supposed to have had access to. "I watched him leave yesterday morning, he definitely didn't get to talk to the Captain."

"The doctors wouldn't release her information to some random guy asking, either," said Sykes.

But Taylor just shook his head. "Everyone in this building knows the basics of what happened to Captain Raydor by now. All he needed to do was ask around…"

Andy scowled, annoyed. "Why the hell would anyone tell the scumbag's lawyer exactly what he needed to discredit the Captain's testimony?"

The Chief sighed. "Maybe he overheard it, or whoever told him didn't know who he was. It doesn't matter – if we were to go to trial on this, he'd have found out anyway," he pointed out. "The idea here is to make sure that DDA Hobbs won't need Raydor's testimony." He turned his attention back to the screens. "Let's give Provenza and Hobbs some more time to finish this…I think we're just getting to the good part."

" –and given the evidence, the addition of the two murder charges is ludicrous at best." Peter Page clasped his hands together and gave the police officer and DDA in front of him another pointed look. "Do better, please."

Provenza cleared his throat. "I don't think you're operating with all the facts here, counselor," he said patiently. "So let me fill you in on some new evidence that we've had the fortune to uncover, since yesterday."

The lawyer arched his eyebrows. "Look, no offense, but nothing you dig up is going to prove my client guilty of two murders and first-degree attempted murder," he said confidently, "so unless we seriously change the terms of discussion here, you're just wasting our time. This 'deal' that you're pushing for is –"

" –more than Jensen deserves," Provenza finished for him, then dipped his head to give the man a serious look. "I'd advise that you listen, and consider your options very carefully, Mr. Page. Because it has been brought to our attention that your client had given Danny Murray a disposable cell phone," he revealed, "which the two of them used to communicate. Now – we found that phone, and its counterpart that your client used, with finger prints, and call logs, and texts and – well, it was like Christmas come early," he said with sarcastic enthusiasm, pushing a thin folder across the table to the lawyer. "So, we now have solid evidence that places Mr. Jensen… excuse me Doctor Jensen, in contact with Murray, and establishes their intent to meet, and this in the time frame of the young man's death."

Erik Jensen's lips pressed together in a mix of resentment and indignation. "That doesn't prove anything! He could've –"

"Erik –"

" –been dead before –"

"Erik!" Peter Page snapped at his client, who quieted down again with one last huff. The lawyer glanced at him again, then cleared his throat and looked over the call logs and photos in the folder that Provenza had given him. His expression had lost some of its smugness. "It's true, though," he said after a moment. "None of this is enough to prove that the actual murder was committed. To say nothing of the other one – both charges are still a long shot."

"The Donnell one? Maybe," Andrea acknowledged. "But for Danny Murray we've got motive, we've got opportunity, and those cell phone records are pretty damn convincing."

"You don't have conclusive evidence to place him at the crime scene."

"Yet," she agreed. "But I've won with less. I'll take my chances with Murray's murder in court if it comes to it."

"And call Captain Raydor to testify?" Page challenged.

"That lawyer's trying to blackmail us!" growled Sanchez.

"Wait for it, detective," Taylor advised.

"They're not taking the deal," Julio argued. "That bastard Jensen wanted to kill the Captain and his lawyer's gonna try to get him off with two charges of arson?!"

"No way DDA Hobbs is taking that," opined Amy. "It's looking to me like we're going to trial."

"I should've just shot the son of a bitch," said Julio.

Privately, Andy agreed.

On the screens, they could see Hobbs react to the lawyer's impertinent question by crossing her arms, and tilting her head a little.

"You've never actually seen Captain Raydor on the stand, have you?" Andrea guessed, almost amused. "I have. Twice, actually," she revealed. "Two of the easiest convictions I've ever gotten."

Then her expression lost its levity. Biting her lips, she leaned forward in her seat.

"Listen, Peter, it's true that I'd rather not put the Captain through a lengthy trial ," she admitted calmly. "But if it comes to it, her testimony isn't the Achilles heel of my case. Quite the opposite, in fact." Her eyebrows rose a fraction. "She's cool, concise, articulate – pretty much any prosecutor's dream witness, really. And good luck discrediting her on the stand." She moved her gaze to Jensen. "Honestly, Erik, this isn't someone I'd want testifying against me."

Mr. Page sighed. "Just take the fifteen for double arson and attempted voluntary manslaughter," he said tiredly. "Considering…everything, we'll take the parole off the table – my client serves fifteen years, full term." He ignored Jensen's twitch in the next seat. "Look, that's probably what you'd get in court anyway… if you won," he amended, "which is still far from a foregone conclusion even with this new evidence."

Andrea's tone was steel. "The deal is life without parole, and your client admits to having taken the lives of those two young men, and trying to kill Captain Raydor. Anything less and we go to trial."

"Fine!" he resigned himself, irritated. "We'll put this to a judge, then. You know you'll never get life in a trial, either," he added, "You absolutely can't prove two of your three charges! And the second-degree murder of Danny Murray will never amount to life without parole, my client has no priors, he's –"

"Oh, I'm not going for second degree if we take this to court," Hobbs informed him calmly.

" – he's a well-respected… what?" The lawyer shook his head, growing more annoyed. "What are you talking about? This is a complete lack of professionalism," he accused. "I've got half a mind to go complain right now to a judge, because you're muddling the details of this case in order to fulfill some sort of misplaced grudge –"

"Let me clarify the details for you, then, Peter," said Hobbs. "So there's no room for miscommunication." She leaned forward again, holding his gaze. "If you and your client don't agree to the deal I'm offering, I'm going to forget about the other two charges, and take Mr. Jensen to court for the death of Danny Murray, as a first-degree murder with special circumstances."

Electronics was deadly silent. It was hard to be sure, especially with his eyes glued to the screen, but Andy thought there was a chance that they were all holding their breath.

"This is it," muttered Taylor, his words trailing off into the silence.

Page's eyebrows flew to his hairline.

"What? That's insane! What 'special circumstances', for God's sake? That," he exhaled, "is the single most ridiculous thing I've ever –"

"From where I'm standing," she cut him off, "your client co-opted Danny Murray to aid him in a violent crime – blowing up that shopping center – and then killed him to prevent him from providing an incriminating testimony. Furthermore –"

"That's conjecture," said the lawyer. "Well first of all you probably can't even prove the killing part," he amended, "but even if you could, there's actually no way that you could prove that sort of intent! And under no definition was Danny Murray a witness against my client, so –"

"Furthermore," the DDA resumed, over him, "Dr. Jensen committed that murder, and nearly killed a police officer, while evading arrest."

"What? Are you simply making these things up, now?"

"Yesterday," Andrea clarified, "Captain Raydor gave us a statement in which, among other things, she clearly says that she identified herself as a police officer, identified your client by name, and requested that he stop and remit himself to her custody." Her gaze briefly flickered to Jensen again. "In return, Dr. Jensen turned, ran, and after he'd made it safely out, blew up the garage and under any definition, Peter," she paraphrased calmly, "that's going to count as escaping custody. Which your client was still engaged in while he murdered Danny Murray. Add that to the attempted murder of a police captain, the two bombs that he placed in a public site, a second one of which he also detonated while evading arrest, and frankly, I've got more special circumstances than I know what to do with."

She gave him a cool smile, placed both elbows on the table and clasped her hands in front of her.

"So that's the deal, Peter. Life without parole, and Dr. Jensen tells us exactly what happened with the two young men who ended up dead – or we go to court for first-degree murder, and at the end of a long and hard trial, I'm pretty confident that the good doctor will end up on death row."

"What?!" Jensen nearly jumped out of his seat. "What –" he sputtered to his lawyer. " What's she talking about? Death? Death?! All I did was blow up Sue's goddamn mall! She deserved –"

"Erik, please –"

"You can't say that to me!" he railed at Hobbs. "I wasn't evading arrest! I shouldn't have been arrested in the first place! I was only trying to –"

"Erik! That's enough!" Page looked annoyed. "I said please stay silent! That means keep your mouth shut and don't make things worse for yourself!"

Jensen settled back into his seat, fuming.

Andrea smiled, "I'm looking forward to seeing him on the stand."

The lawyer pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "There hasn't been an execution in this state in over eight years," he pointed out.

She hummed, thoughtful. "Well…there's a federal court case on that coming up in a few months. Who knows, maybe that'll…speed things along, a little. I wouldn't be surprised."

Page sighed. "I need a few minutes to think about this, if you don't mind. Discuss some options with my client."

"By all means," Provenza said affably. "Think. Discuss. Oh but as you do," he added as he stood up from the chair, "in addition to all the evidence we talked about, and Captain Raydor's testimony, you should know that there were also various tire tracks near the Murray crime scene, and that we've recently discovered the first victim's – James Donnell's – bike, with your client's prints all over it. We're going to be comparing tracks, and we're going to keep looking, and make no mistake, Mr. Page… we are going to find every last shred of evidence there is. I can promise you that."

The lawyer let out another long sigh.

Now…

Sharon's expression showed mixed confusion and relief. She'd leaned against the arm of the sofa, perching on it lightly as she listened to him. It took a few seconds after Andy had finished speaking for her to meet his gaze again:

"I'm… that's more…" She grimaced, cleared her throat, and said quietly, "I didn't think that we'd be able to hold that man accountable for everything he did. Especially for what happened to James Donnell."

The lieutenant nodded. "That's why Provenza and Hobbs included Donnell's death in the deal. We might've never found out what happened to him otherwise," he admitted. "I don't know all the details, I didn't read the scumbag's confession yet, but it sounds like the two of them had a fight when Donnell figured out that Jensen was gonna use the bomb to actually blow up people and not just the empty mall."

Sharon looked away, shaking her head slowly, reminded yet again of what a sad and pointless death that idealistic, misguided young man had had. And Danny, who had inadvertently gone down the same path as his friend. Both of them so young, so well-intentioned…

God.

She looked up when Andy put a hand on her arm. "Look, that's the best we could've done for him," he said. "Now at least we're gonna be able to tell those parents how their kid died, that he didn't just randomly OD one night. He might've screwed up, but he was trying to do the right thing and help people." He sighed, "It's not much, but…"

"It's an answer," said Sharon. "That's the most we could have given them. They'll know that they were right about him." She sighed, then met his gaze again with a sad smile. "He was a good kid, after all."

He nodded again. "Yeah." Silence fell between them for a few long moments, during which Andy was content to look at her faraway expression; then he cleared his throat. "Anyway… you and the kid probably want to get back to your dinner, and I should call a cab…"

She smiled up at him. "I thought we agreed that you'd eat with us?"

"Yeah, but… Sharon, I really don't think you should have to –"

A loud hiss from the stove interrupted him, and he and Sharon both turned over to see Rusty taking a hurried step back, while traces of smoke dispersed from the pan. He grimaced and waved the spatula at them in a reassuring gesture. "Sorry, uh…guess the oil got too hot – I mean, it was too hot, when I put the chicken in… Whoa – uh, it's okay! Everything's fine." He dodged the hot oil drops erupting in his direction.

Sharon stood up from the arm of the sofa, taking a step toward the kitchen. "Did water get into the pan?"

"…maybe? Didn't you say to wash the chicken first…? No – Sharon, seriously, it's fine. I've got this." He shot her an almost pleading look. "Just, don't worry, go sit down or something, okay? Please?"

She sighed, "Rusty…"

"Hey kid –" Andy beat her to kitchen area, and nodded to the misbehaving hot pan, " – need a hand?"

Rusty stared at the brace on the man's left shoulder. "Uh, no? No offense, lieutenant, but like, you've only got one hand right now."

"Yeah? Well my one hand has about fifty years more cooking experience than both of yours," Flynn replied with a smirk, making his way over to the stove, "so how about you step back and learn how the experts do it? Spatula," he requested, holding out his free right hand.

Rusty gave Sharon a wry look, as if to say, 'do we have to?', and her shoulders twitched in a minute shrug as she smiled back.

"I can fry a piece of chicken," grumbled the boy.

"Yeah, but now you're gonna learn how to do it right."

"Uhm, I hate to say this, but I don't think there's really a 'right' way to stir fry chicken, lieutenant."

"Sure there is," Flynn replied in kind. "To start with, you're supposed to not forget the oil on high heat while you get distracted."

"I wasn't distracted," Rusty immediately lied. Then he saw Sharon looking at him, and he felt bad. Okay, fine, so he'd gotten caught up in Lt. Flynn's story, too … but how was he supposed to not want to listen to that?

At least Sharon didn't look mad; instead, she just smiled at him, and Rusty ducked his head a little, gave her another covert once-over to make sure she still looked okay, and, with a sigh, turned his attention back to the pan and the lieutenant.

"So what else are 'stir fry experts' supposed to do…?"

Andy gave Sharon a wry look over his shoulder. "What do you know. Now he wants to learn."

She smiled again, amused at their conversation. "I'll get an extra setting out for the table," she said.

"I can do it," said Rusty and Flynn at the same time, and then they exchanged a sort of look of mutual approval, and Sharon rolled her eyes.

Everyone wants to take care of Sharon! I feel that after what I've put her through, she deserves that much as least.

I should say, when I first envisioned this chapter, Andy was only there for a very brief scene. But then I couldn't make him leave! So now they're having dinner. And we'll find out what's in his mysterious shopping bag too, next chapter ;).

And last but not least, the bad guy has been dealt with, with a little help from our favorite DDA! (Retrospectively, given these scenes, aren't we glad that way back in the beginning of this, it ended up being Hobbs and not Emma who came over from the DA's office?)

Thank you all for reading :)!