What slithers beneath the surface? Part 5

The heat persisted through the early afternoon and Sharon felt it like an outer layer on her skin. She felt insulated to her core; heat clouding her mind, she just itched to take a shower and wash away the day's sweat. The day ended on a somewhat sour note; stalemate as they waited for autopsy findings. Morales was going to be busy with three bodies, and besides waiting, there was not a lot to go on before tomorrow. Sharon sent her team home well knowing some of them stayed behind, even on a Sunday. They were all, in one fashion or other, dedicated to their work, so staying late was nothing out of the ordinary.

The apartment was empty when Sharon entered and the living room was stuffy from the sun. She opened the terrace doors and stood in the opening for a quiet moment, enjoying the slight breeze that blew in from the east. She was beginning to feel the lack of sleep; one yawn following after another and her movements sluggish.

It was too late to take an afternoon nap seeing she would never get up again. Instead she opted for a relaxing bath.

She shed her clothes in an uncharacteristic pile on the floor of her bedroom and put on a silk kimono. She briefly debated whether to have a glass of wine or not, and decided on opening a new bottle. A gift from Gavin's last visit, the Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand. She poured a generous amount into a glass and took it with her to the bathroom.

The tub took its time filling up, and she had sipped half the wine when she finally slid under the water, her aching muscles loosening their knotted up tension. She stretched her legs and submerged even further into the hot water. The wine glass was cool on her fingers and she sipped from the rim, her eyes closing. She learned early on in her career that taking care of herself was crucial, and relaxing in a hot bath after working long hours was essential to her survival. She felt her lips curve into a smile.

Her mind wandered and she breathed out a low sigh, arching her head back to rest it against the tub.

There was no more wine in her glass and she was too comfortable to even contemplate getting up to refill it. The water cocooned her in pleasant warmth, the sweat from the day dissipating. She forgot murders and serial killers. Instead she closed her eyes, mindful of not falling asleep.

The brief kisses she had shared with Andy a month back came back and she felt her lips curve and a warm pleasant feeling spreading throughout her body. Sure their relationship was complicated, but for the moment she chose to simply focus on that one special feeling he inspired in her.

The day had been arduously long and she could easily recall the feel of his lips against her own. His scent was easy to bring forth as well, overpowering in her imagination. It was a small step to go further and bring forth the imagined impression of his hands on her shoulders, squeezing and touching, ghosting across her skin down over the deltoids and the top of her arms.

She wondered what a real kiss would feel like. Not merely the chaste impression of his lips against hers but a kiss that went beyond the confines of friendship. At times she wished, he would simply kiss her out of the blue, and at other times that felt too overwhelming.

She blew out an exasperated breath, tension beneath her skin tingling.

How would he kiss her? Slow? She smiled. Yes, she imagined he would kiss her slowly and fully at first.

It was not that farfetched to imagine his fingers sliding down from her shoulders, down her ribcage and rounding her waist, holding on to her. She could imagine his voice, low, gruff undertones that would be more pronounced, the heavy warm breath of him breathing near her ear. She wondered if he was talkative? Would he whisper words to her between kisses? Would he be certain with his touches?

It was a brief interlude; her mind solely focused on the image, her breath stuck somewhere within her chest.

She ghosted her own fingers across her inner thigh, pulling on her bottom lip with her teeth. It would be easy to go further; to sink even more into the water and to release the tension inside her. But something held her back.

She exhaled rather loudly; she could not fantasize about her lieutenant like that. It was a sure way to complicate their friendship even more. She needed just an ounce of objectivity when it came to Andy Flynn; fantasizing about him was not helping. In all honesty, maybe she had already lost all objectivity. Why else would she be imagining so much more?

Sharon could admit that Andy had been on her mind a lot lately, and even in her dreams he was a frequent visitor, but there needed to be some barriers for her to function, both professionally and at home. Otherwise, she would surely become lost. She needed focus on her work, on finding Stroh and on keeping Rusty safe. It did not help much, that in some ways, she already felt a bit lost in him and the feelings he stirred up in her. It had taken her some time to even admit to those feelings, and it baffled her still. It was the contradictory aspect of finding herself comfortable in the friendship and then on the other hand wanting yet fearing where it was heading.

Fresh out of the shower, her body was still tingling from her unbidden thoughts. She quickly put on soft thin pajamas and then headed to the kitchen. She turned on to a radio station with slow jazz, the volume low and relaxing. Rusty would soon be home from his study session at the library. Sharon's stomach rumbled a couple of times in succession and after giving the food in her fridge a quick look, she decided chicken and a salad would do.

Andy had given her the recipe for one of his family's marinade sauces. Even when she tried not to think about him, he snuck into her thoughts. A half hour later, she was sipping from the second glass of white wine and looking out of the terrace doors, the food finished and waiting on the table.

A key rattled in the lock and she looked up to greet Rusty, the troubles of the day dissipating at the thought of some time with her son. She turned to the door and smiled. Rusty came through the front door half hidden behind a large bouquet of red roses. Dread trapped the greeting in her throat when she saw the flowers; fear started pulsing loudly like an erratic heartbeat, drowning out everything else.

"Sharon, you home?" Rusty called out behind the flowers, his voice shaking, "I found these outside the front door."

Sharon quickly went to him, her hunger forgotten.

They settled down the roses on the sofa table, both giving the bouquet a frown. There was a note. Sharon swallowed the lump in her throat. She touched a petal, half mesmerized by the deep color and half horrified by the implication.

Rusty took the note before she could reach it and then read it out aloud, "Sharon. Destiny is a tricky mistress. Our paths will meet, don't doubt it. I have something special in mind for you. Give my best to your son."

Sharon pursed her lips in annoyance. Stroh was insistent on ruining roses for her. In her marriage to Jackson, flowers had been a rarity. The few times she remembered receiving flowers from her ex-husband, they had come with regret and the bittersweet feeling of apology; 'I'm sorry I forgot. I'm sorry I let you down.' 'Forgive me.'

Sharon took a deep breath. She was not going to let that awful man ruin her evening, or her life. She gently steered Rusty away from the sofa table and towards the dining area. They were both too hungry to deal with the threat at present.

"But," Rusty started, his eyes going back to the bouquet.

"It's covered," Sharon told him and then filled his glass with orange juice. She gave him a reassuring smile, "I will call it in and we'll take it from there."

Rusty nodded half convincingly, his eye going back to the bouquet even as he sat down at the table.

Sharon leaned across the table, her hand landing on his, "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Rusty made a grimace, "But what about you?"

Sharon smiled, "I have my Glock."

Rusty arched an eyebrow, "How's that gonna help if Stroh, - "

Sharon quickly interrupted him, "Have I ever told you that I have a perfect aim? I've won the annual LAPD marksmanship contest more times than any other officer."

The tension seemed to leave Rusty, his mouth tugging into a small smile, "Really?"

"Yes," Sharon said with a lifted eyebrow, half wondering if he sometimes forgot she was a police officer.

After dinner and watching the news together on the sofa, Sharon felt her heart tug when Rusty pulled her into a long hug, his arms enveloping her fully. She returned the embrace, feeling some of her own tension lifting as well. Out of the two of them, Rusty was most upset, yet he put on a brave face and tried to calm her down, holding her close, the soft whispered 'I love you' soothing.

She called Chief Taylor after Rusty went to bed; Taylor sent off one of Lieutenant Cooper's guys to watch the condominium for the night, to be on the safe side in light of Rothman's murder.

When Sharon finally went to bed, she slept fitfully and woke several times during the night with a need to check that the front door was still locked, to check windows and her terrace doors.

In the morning, she would feel better.

In the dark, however, her heart leapt at the smallest sounds.

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