Sharon puts her car in park and checks her reflection in the rearview mirror. The lines at the corners of her eyes are perhaps a little more pronounced, but she's relieved to find that there are no other outward signs of the headache once again building behind her temples. She's beginning to wonder if she's developing a sixth sense because lately her headaches have been starting even before she gets the call to join Priority Homicide at a crime scene. Other people get achy joints when rain is coming, she gets headaches when a different type of storm is brewing.. She shrugs one shoulder almost imperceptibly, grabs her notebook, and heads toward whatever awaits her.
She quickly scans the scene and spots a few members of the Priority Homicide team, but no blondes in flowery dresses and cardigans as far as she can tell. She moves toward the command tent that's being set up on the lawn in front of the single-level home and listens carefully for traces of a Georgia accent coming from anywhere in the vicinity…Nothing…Did she actually beat Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson to the crime scene?! Sharon raises her eyes to the heavens in a silent prayer of thanks that at least this time she hasn't been sent on a wild goose chase.
She watches as Lt. Flynn weaves his way over to the tent about 20 feet ahead of her and grabs a coffee from a to-go carrier sitting on the table. A minute later, Lt. Provenza makes his way over, squinting at the two remaining cups before grabbing one and heading off in the same direction as Flynn, but more slowly. Lieutenant Provenza wasn't one to run, after all..
Approaching the table, she casually looks down at the one remaining coffee cup. The scribble on the side is completely indecipherable, but it has to be meant for Chief Johnson. In her rush to catch up with the Chief and her team this morning, she had left her own coffee sitting on the kitchen counter at home.
Sharon's mind flashes back to the last time she had the…pleasure…of working with Priority Homicide and the image of the Chief staring at her smugly over a similar-looking cup in the murder room. She scans the scene once more and then in one smooth motion, picks up the coffee and heads toward the house where she had seen Lieutenants Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum enter.
Sharon brings the warm beverage to her lips and takes a big gulp. She's glad no one is looking her way because she almost sprays the entire front porch with a fountain of…well, that certainly wasn't what she was expecting. It's more chocolate than anything resembling coffee. If she wasn't sure before, now she knows for certain this beverage was meant for the Chief. It's so sweet she almost wants to throw it away to avoid the inevitable stomach ache. On the other hand, there is at least some coffee in it and she could really use the boost, so she continues to choke it down.
Her decision is rewarded when she hears a car door slam–a little harder than necessary–and turns around to see Chief Johnson practically stomping away from her vehicle, visibly flustered from her drive there. The Chief storms over to the command tent and demands an update from Lt. Gabriel. He nods, sets down his coffee, and flips through his notebook, beginning his review of what they know so far. But the Chief seems to be having trouble focusing on his words. Her eyes flit back and forth from his cup to the empty carrier at the far end of the command tent and then across the front yard trying to locate the coffee she is sure should be waiting for her. Sharon shifts slightly away and begins examining bullet holes on the front porch, careful to keep Chief Johnson in her peripheral vision. She should really be getting inside, but something in her won't let her move just yet.
She needn't have bothered keeping tabs on the Chief out of the corner of her eye, it's a full-body sensation when the blonde's attention finally lands on her. Sharon waits a beat, schooling her features and brushing off what feels like a shower of very small, very pointed daggers, and then turns to meet the Chief's gaze. She lifts the cup to her lips, taking another sip of the sickeningly sweet beverage, and raises her eyebrow at the Chief. She slowly swallows and is almost surprised by the surge of enjoyment rushing through her at the sight of Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson huffing in frustration. And was that her imagination or did the Chief's foot move in a tiny, petulant stomp?
Satisfied, Sharon smirks ever so slightly at the irritation she had caused the Chief with just a cup of coffee and turns her attention once more to the house and what awaits her inside.
. . .
Brenda finally pulls up to the crime scene, snatches up her handbag, and slams the door behind her. She hadn't exactly gotten lost this time, there was just a poorly marked detour and she somehow managed to miss a turn. If they were gonna close a major road, the least they could have done was clearly mark the detour route! Don't they know people have crime scenes to get to?!
She spots Lt. Gabriel in the command tent and makes a beeline for him for an update. He nods, sets down his coffee cup, and flips through the pages of his notebook, recapping what they know so far. As he talks, Brenda's eyes move from him, to his coffee, to the empty carrier on the other side of the tent. Gabriel's voice fades to the background as she looks again at his half-empty cup, back to the carrier, and then out across the yard. She catches a glimpse of Lt. Tao in the distance draining his cup and tossing it neatly in the trash as he heads back over toward Buzz. Oh, for heaven's sake! The rest of the team seems to have found their coffees just fine, what on Earth happened to hers?
Brenda starts to turn her attention back to Lt. Gabriel, ready to interrupt him and ask about her coffee, when her eyes land on the unwelcome figure of Captain Sharon Raydor standing on the front porch of the house. She can't believe even Raydor got here before her! Although the Captain is bent over slightly examining something, Brenda can't help but notice the presence of an all-too-familiar cup in her perfectly manicured hand. Her eyes narrow as she glares at Captain Raydor across the lawn.
After a moment, the Captain seems to sense Brenda's eyes on her because she straightens and turns to look directly at the Chief. The Captain slowly lifts the beverage to her lips and raises her eyebrow at Brenda as she takes a drink. Ooh, THAT WOMAN! Before she can help it, Brenda lets out a huff, but manages to stop herself from stomping her kitten heel into the lawn as she shifts her attention back to Lt. Gabriel and the case.