Sharon strode through the parking garage with purpose, her key already in her hand. She was tired and hungry and very much looking forward to getting out of her heels and curling up on her couch with a nice glass of wine.
As she approached her car, she noticed one of her tires was flat. Great. Squatting to examine it more closely, she saw it was slashed. Even better. She sighed, standing up again and was about to head back inside when she caught a flash of metal in her periphery.
She jumped backward, trying to deflect and get out of the way, but the space between the cars was narrow and the sharp blade still managed to cut through the thin material of her blouse, slashing her side. Sharon stepped forward toward her attacker, jamming the car key she was holding as hard as she could into his upper arm and pulling downward.
"Bitch!" he spat out, pain evident in his voice.
Before he could react, she rotated, throwing her hip and her full weight into him, her left elbow and forearm connecting firmly with the side of his head. Shifting her stance, she stomped down hard with the point of her right heel on the top of his foot. The force broke her shoe, and the man backed up into the parked car next to hers with another shout.
The twisting movement and the impact of the blow Sharon landed caused the gash in her side to pulse with a searing pain and she wrapped an arm around herself, hunching over slightly against the pain as she worked to refocus on her surroundings. She pushed her hair out of her face and took a step, trying to escape from the confined space between the vehicles before her attacker recovered, but her moment of hesitation was all the assailant needed. The next thing Sharon felt was her head connecting with the cool, hard surface of her car. Her vision blurred and her knees momentarily gave out. She felt briefly like she was floating before her whole body was slammed into the vehicle again, the rear view mirror digging uncomfortably into her ribcage.
Sharon slumped to the ground, curling reflexively into a protective ball as he kicked her once, twice, a third time for good measure, and then, when he was sure she was staying down, he turned and ran. Sharon heard the sound of a car engine and screeching tires through the blood rushing in her ears. She needed to get up, she needed to find her phone and call someone, but she just…couldn't. Gasping for air, white hot pain filled her body and she let out a strangled whimper as she tried to slow her breathing. Unable to lift her head just yet, she blinked and slowly raised a shaking hand to push the hair out of her face, her fingers encountering a sticky wetness as she did so. And then everything went black.
. . .
Lieutenant Provenza exited the building and sauntered toward his car. He smiled to himself, more than happy to be the one assigned to pay another visit to their attractive, young witness. Something caught his eye as he passed a row of vehicles and he stopped dead in his tracks. A female figure lay unmoving on the ground between two cars. It looked almost like…
"Captain? Captain Raydor?!" he said, rushing over to her at a pace that looked suspiciously like a run, his phone already up to his ear. As he got closer, he noticed the blood. Squatting down he said her name again, his hand gently shaking her shoulder, the other moving the hair out of her face so he could get a better look at her. She let out a weak groan, blinking slowly and lifting her head.
"Lieutenant," she said hoarsely, trying to push herself up and stopping, choking back a pained cry. She gritted her teeth, steeling herself, and accepted his help to get her into a seated position.
"Sergeant Elliot," the younger man's voice sounded tired as he answered his phone.
"Elliot? Provenza."
The sergeant groaned internally. The Captain had left not long ago and he'd just been getting ready to leave, himself. He sighed and braced himself for whatever OIS nightmare Chief Johnson's squad was going to visit upon them.
"We have a…situation here," the Lieutenant continued. "I don't know what happened, but you're going to want to get your team down to the parking garage, A-SAP. And call for paramedics, the Captain's been injured."
"What—Where?" He asked, still processing the information.
"A-7," the lieutenant said, craning his neck to find one of the painted section numbers.
Not waiting for any further information, the sergeant disconnected the call. He hastily started gathering his things and signaled to the remaining members of his team to follow, calling for paramedics as he sped down the hallway.
The Captain was eerily still while she waited for her team to arrive, taking only shallow breaths to minimize the pain and refusing offers to relocate her to a more comfortable area until she had given her statement. Sharon told her sergeant what she could remember, letting him know she'd injured her assailant and shifting her gaze toward her purse, which had fallen to the ground nearby, its contents spilling out across the concrete. The sergeant nodded and secured her weapon while the rest of the team began documenting the scene.
Lieutenant Provenza gave his statement while the paramedics checked out the Captain, who by that point was shivering uncontrollably. Shock mixed with the chill of the air in the concrete structure had quickly permeated the thin material of her blouse and settled into her bones, the involuntary movements sending new waves of pain through her already flooded system.
Sharon had asked to be allowed to return to the building, but the paramedics refused to release her citing concerns about internal bleeding and the possibility of a punctured lung. Not having the energy to protest, she gave in and allowed them to take her in for further testing. She was grateful that her sergeant had managed to retrieve her purse from the scene, so she at least had her ID and insurance information with her as she was carted off for further examination.
"I'll go tell the Chief," Provenza told the sergeant as the two men watched the ambulance drive away, "I have a feeling she'll want to head straight to the hospital." Elliot nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing.
"And I'll have Buzz pull the footage from the parking garage," the older man continued, looking at the security camera mounted a short distance away. "It looks like we've got a pretty good angle."
The sergeant nodded again, "Yeah, the Captain always parks near a camera now, even if it means a longer walk to the building. Her car used to be a prime target for disgruntled officers, but the cameras are usually enough of a deterrent."
"Looks like someone didn't get the memo," Provenza added before tapping his pen on his notepad with a sense of finality.
. . .
Brenda hadn't stopped moving since her lieutenant returned to the murder room, closing her office door behind him and suggesting she sit down. She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her cardigan, then her seatbelt when they climbed into his car, chewing on her lip and looking out the passenger window to avoid the concerned glances he kept shooting her from the driver's seat. Still, she could feel his eyes on her as they made their way to the hospital in what felt like slow motion.
When they arrived, no one would give her any information about Sharon's condition, pointing out less and less politely that she wasn't a family member or listed as an emergency contact, which only added to the blonde's agitation. She might not be listed on Sharon's forms, but she was a deputy chief with the LAPD for cryin' out loud! And one of her officers had been assaulted. Her Captain Sharon!
When yelling demands and flashing her badge for the fourth time didn't work, Lieutenant Provenza put a hand on her shoulder and led her with more force than his aging frame would suggest over to the waiting area. Once she finally gave in and sat down, he brought her a cup of coffee, which she accepted with a weak smile even though she could tell just by smelling it that it was burnt and had far too little sugar in it to be even remotely palatable. She choked down a small sip, failing to hide her grimace, and he wisely pretended not to notice.
Instead, he reminded her, what he hoped was reassuringly, that the Captain had been upright, conscious, and talking—insisting on procedure, no less—when he had last seen her. Brenda made him go over everything again from the moment he caught sight of Sharon laying on the ground next to her car.
The Lieutenant walked her through what had happened several more times as patiently and methodically as he could, knowing it was the only thing keeping her distracted from trying to push her way through to wherever Sharon was being treated. Even so, he was filled with a wave of relief and gratitude when he was interrupted mid-sentence by the buzzing of his phone. He stepped away to take the call after catching a glare from the woman at the desk. When he returned a few minutes later slipping his phone back into his blazer pocket, Brenda sat up, momentarily hopeful he might be heading back to the precinct. There'd been a shift change and she'd been waiting for a chance to try her luck with the new staff at the desk.
Provenza wanted nothing more than to head back to the rest of the team, but he knew the moment he did, the Chief would be back at it trying to bully the staff and causing a scene. The last thing they needed right now was a use of force complaint against his boss on top of everything else. So, he lowered himself back down into the chair beside her and pulled out his notepad to run down the list of who was currently working on what. The blonde nodded her head, only half listening, and slumped back in her chair to wait, her knee resuming its bouncing motion as soon as she'd stopped biting at her cuticle, the nervous energy needing to find a new outlet if she wasn't allowed to yell at anyone.
The Lieutenant felt bad for her, he really did. She was doing her best to hold it together, but he could tell she was disappointed he didn't have anything new to report. He wasn't about to tell her that Flynn had just called to find out how the Chief was doing and if there was any news on Captain Raydor's condition he could share with her team. She shifted next to him, letting out a weary sigh and slouching down further in her chair as a heavy silence descended on them.
. . .
Brenda had zoned out staring at a scuff on the floor when her phone buzzed in her lap, the sensation jerking her back to her senses and almost causing her to slosh cold coffee all over herself and the floor. Hoping it was someone calling with an update, she held her breath and squinted at the caller ID. When it finally came into focus, she let out an exasperated sigh, her whole body deflating as she sent the call to voicemail more forcefully than necessary. She didn't have time to talk to her Momma right now! Well, she did have time, but the only people she wanted to hear from at the moment were Sharon or someone from the medical staff. Or maybe her team. But mostly just Sharon.
Brenda stood up and tossed her barely-touched coffee in the garbage, her whole body protesting the movement after being hunched in the uncomfortable chair for so long. When she returned to her seat, Provenza snoring lightly beside her, she set her phone back in her lap and started rummaging around in her bag for something sweet, hoping whatever she found might take the edge off the worry that continued to gnaw at her insides.
Finally, her fingers made contact with crinkled plastic deep in one corner of her bag. When she pulled it out of the depths and into the glaring light of the waiting area, she was disappointed to find it was one lone and very smooshed peach ring, if it could even still be called that. It was misshapen, having partially melted to the side of the bag, and a generous smattering of lint and purse grit joined the sugar coating its surface.
The blonde stared at it appraisingly and after a quick glance around the waiting area to make sure no one was watching, she carefully peeled the battered gummy candy out of the plastic, brushed at it a couple of times with her thumb to remove what she could of the purse debris, and popped it into her mouth, chewing angrily. Despite her frustration, the small rush the sugar gave her was enough to keep her going just a little longer. Someone had to tell them something soon…didn't they?
Just as she was debating getting up to talk to the desk staff again, two uniforms arrived with her car key and instructions for where she could find her vehicle. She looked up at the uniform who was speaking to her and eventually held out her hand for the key, nodding and thanking him while having already forgotten what he said. All she cared about was Sharon and the fact that no one had given her any information since their initial concession that a female officer matching her description had been brought in and was conscious on arrival.
As she watched their forms recede, Brenda briefly wondered how the uniforms had managed to get hold of her keys.. Then she remembered that Sergeant Gabriel had a spare car key, which had saved them both on more than one occasion. She'd have to try to remember to get it back to him when all this was over…
. . .
As it turned out, the fact that Sharon had had an extremely busy day, had worked in her favor. She hadn't eaten anything since lunch, a cup or two of over-steeped tea all that had kept her going the rest of the day, so they were able to get her in for a CT scan fairly quickly once they'd cleaned her up and sutured the gash in her side. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the results to be read by the radiologist.
While she waited, Sharon located her purse and pulled out her phone, noting the large number of missed calls and text messages waiting for her. Most of the calls were, unsurprisingly, from Brenda. She immediately dialed the blonde's number and Brenda picked up on the first ring, which was highly unusual given that her phone was generally lost swimming somewhere in the void of her monstrous handbag.
"Sharon?!" Brenda gasped, her voice a whispered squeak.
Sharon cleared her throat and answered, "Yes—"
"Oh, Sharon! Thank goodness!" the blonde interrupted, a wave of relief washing over her as soon as she heard the sound of the older woman's voice.
"Brenda, why are you whispering? Am I interrupting something?"
"NO!" Brenda answered, more loudly than she'd meant to. She glanced warily toward the cranky woman at the desk hoping she hadn't noticed the outburst or the fact that she was on the phone, but the woman was on the phone herself, her head down as she rifled through a stack of papers.
Lowering her voice again, Brenda continued, "I'm stuck sittin' in some God-awful waitin' area and nobody'll tell me a thing about what's goin' on with you 'cause I'm not on your paperwork! Police badges don't seem to mean much of anythin' these days," she grumbled before refocusing on her main concern. "Are you okay? What's—"
"Wait, you're here? At the hospital?" Sharon asked, surprised. "Brenda, how long have you been—"
"'Course I am! Where else would I be?!" Brenda responded, a mix of irritation and worry in her voice.
"Lieutenant Provenza came and got me after the ambulance left. He drove me over…"
"Oh, Brenda," she said more softly, blinking back moisture. "Hang on a second."
The blonde sighed. She didn't want to hang on, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter.
"Excuse me," she could hear Sharon's muffled voice call out to someone nearby, "my girlfriend is out in the waiting area. Is it possible for her to come and wait here with me?" A pause. "Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson," another pause. "LAPD." Pause. "Yes, thank you. I appreciate it."
"Well, it sounds like you've made a bit of a name for yourself around here this evening," Sharon said into the phone again, raising an eyebrow Brenda couldn't see and not entirely succeeding in stifling the chuckle that erupted as she imagined her headstrong girlfriend's likely behavior.
The regret was immediate. She sucked in a quick breath at the sharp sting the facial movement had caused and jolts of pain shot through her torso from the chuckle and the too-quick inhalation. Sharon groaned, kicking herself for forgetting so quickly the condition she was in. At least whatever pain medicine they'd given her was taking the edge off..
"Sharon, what just happened? Are you okay?!" Brenda, who had just started to relax slightly at actually being able to talk to Sharon, immediately went back on high alert.
"Yes—No—I don't know yet. I just..forgot that it hurts to do certain things at the moment," Sharon admitted, her eyes pressed firmly shut as though that would somehow ward off the pain.
"Sharon Rayd—"
"Honey," Sharon interrupted, the arm holding her phone suddenly feeling like lead. "We can talk more in a few minutes. Someone's coming to get you. I suggest you keep an eye out for them," she added with a finality that Brenda did not appreciate.
"Sharon," the blonde tried again with a whine.
"Brenda!" the older woman shot back, frustration and pain momentarily getting the better of her. "I need to get off the phone now," she said more evenly. "I'm tired, I hurt, and I would very much like to see you, so please just watch for them and they'll bring you to me."
"Shar—"
"Please, Brenda. See you in a few," Sharon disconnected the call and let her tired arm drop to the bed beside her, phone and all, as she closed her eyes.
Brenda let out a huff and stared at her phone for a minute. Lieutenant Provenza, who had been sitting with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest listening to the exchange, opened his eyes just in time to catch the little foot stomp the blonde was unable to contain.
When her phone rang again moments later, Brenda answered without looking, assuming it was Sharon calling back.
"Well that just takes the cake! I can't belie—" Brenda started in as soon as the call connected.
"Brenda Leigh? It's your mother."
The combination of shock and dread at hearing her mother's voice stopped Brenda cold and she quickly switched gears.
"Oh, hi Momma!" Brenda chirped, her voice rising an octave or two with false cheer.
"What were you sayin'?" Willie Rae asked.
"I'm sorry, Momma. I thought it was someone else callin' me back 'bout work. We were on a call just now and I got cut off," Brenda explained.
"Ms. Johnson? Brenda Johnson?" someone in scrubs called out, scanning the waiting area for a response.
Brenda stood, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder and pressing the phone to her thigh. "Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, yes," she corrected as she walked toward him.
The man nodded and extended an arm, "This way, ma'am."
Brenda quickly raised the phone to her ear and whispered, "Now's really not a good time, Momma."
The man glanced behind him and then pointed as they passed a 'No cell phones' sign.
Brenda nodded apologetically, pressing the phone to her leg again as she followed, a muffled Willie Rae still speaking into her skirt as they rounded a final corner and her eyes landed on Sharon's battered form.
"Oh my Lord! Sharon!" Brenda cried out, letting her phone drop into her bag, as it fell to the floor, forgotten, and she rushed to Sharon's side.
"Brenda," Sharon said, her voice conveying volumes as she uttered the blonde's name. She gave a weak smile, mindful of her swollen face this time, and reached out to take Brenda's hand. "You're here." Brenda could hear the relief in her voice and…something else…Surprise? Disbelief maybe? She filed that away for later as she felt Sharon squeeze her hand reassuringly, felt the older woman's thumb stroking gently across her cool skin. Brenda's free hand hovered around Sharon's head and face, almost afraid to touch the woman who seemed so much smaller now in the hospital gown they'd given her after removing her sliced and bloody blouse.
On the other end of the phone, Willie Rae strained to hear what was happening, but the sound was so muffled she couldn't make anything out.
"Brenda Leigh? Are you there? Brenda?!" She tried, but got no response. "Hello?! Can you hear me?" Shaking her head, she disconnected the call, worried about what on Earth was happening on the other end of the line.
Brenda drew in a shaky breath as her eyes traveled over the brunette, taking stock of her injuries. The right side of Sharon's face was red and swollen, her eye not able to open all the way, and there was a cut near her hairline held together with steri strips.
"Hey," Sharon said softly, waiting for Brenda to meet her gaze, "I'm so glad you're here." She tugged at the blonde's hand until she shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. "It's okay, Brenda," she added, reaching their joined hands up to try and push a strand of hair behind the younger woman's ear.
Brenda pulled back, letting go of Sharon's hand in the process. "Really? 'Cuz from where I'm sittin' it sure doesn't look like it," Brenda snapped, her eyes watery, voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts. "What'd they say, Sharon?"
The brunette opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off before she could utter a sound.
"And don't you dare tell me you're fine," she added, crossing her arms with a pointed look. "You're a far cry from fine, I can see that for myself, but I'd like to hear the details now, if you don't mind."
Sharon nodded and cleared her throat. "Based on your reaction and my inability to fully open my eye, I assume my face is not only quite swollen, but well on its way to turning a lovely shade of bruised," she said, taking a careful breath. "But I can assure you it looks worse than it is."
They both turned at the muffled sound of the blonde's phone ringing in her purse, but Brenda waved it off and focused on the woman in front of her, gesturing for her to go on.
"I have a small cut on my head, which bled a lot—as head wounds are wont to do—but is minor enough not to need any stitches." She took another slow breath. "My headache has lessened, although that may be partially due to the pain meds, and I've had no dizziness or nausea, which they said is a good sign." She paused and Brenda nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"I have a large laceration on my left side that required about 20 stitches—"
"Twenty?! Sharon!" Brenda exclaimed, unable to hide her alarm.
"HOWEVER," Sharon continued, talking over the blonde's outburst, "it's a cut, not a stab wound." She waited a moment to let that piece of information sink in. "And," she took another breath, "I have what appears to be multiple broken ribs. Their biggest concerns are possible internal bleeding or a punctured lung."
Brenda's phone started ringing again and Brenda rolled her eyes, but made no move to answer it.
"They were able to get me in fairly quickly for a CT scan. As it turned out, not having eaten anything since lunch was actually a good thing," Sharon said, rolling her good eye. "That was a while ago now, I'm just waiting on the results. If everything is clear, they said I should be able to go home. Otherwise, they may want to keep me for observation."
"Okay," Brenda let out a slow breath, nodding as she processed all the information.
"All in all, I'm pretty lucky, considering how things could have gone," Sharon said more quietly, looking down at some imaginary spot on the bed. "I just can't shake the fact that I should have seen it coming…I mean, I did, but just barely before the knife caught me," she sighed.
Brenda covered Sharon's hand with her own, squeezing until the brunette looked up at her. Then, she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the older woman's lips.
The sound of Sharon's phone ringing startled both women, Brenda pulling back as Sharon carefully reached over to pick it up. She squinted at the caller ID, her good eye going wide as she answered the call.
"Captain Raydor speaking," Sharon said in a much more gentle tone than her usual clipped phone greeting, and Brenda's face scrunched in confusion.
"Sharon? It's Willie Rae Johnson calling."
Of course Sharon knew that, but Clay and Willie Rae refused to use caller ID and thought it was rude when people jumped right into the conversation without preamble, already knowing who was on the line, so Sharon went along with it.
"Willie Rae, what a lovely surprise!" Sharon responded brightly, shooting her girlfriend a pointed look.
"Oh, I'm so glad I got you, dear! I was talkin' with Brenda and then she called out your name and then the phone went quiet. I tried callin' back, but Brenda Leigh's not pickin' up. Is everythin' alright?" Willie Rae asked, concerned.
"Yes, everything's alright," Sharon said with a confidence she didn't quite feel as she tried to figure out how best to frame things for the older woman. "I had…an accident at work this evening. I'm okay, but I hit my head and got a little banged up, so I'm at the hospital getting checked out. I think you might have been talking to Brenda right when they brought her back to join me. She was surprised when she saw me, but really, it looks worse than it is," she explained, adding, "The cell phone reception in these big, concrete buildings can be a bit spotty."
"Are you sure, dear?" the older woman asked, not sounding entirely convinced.
"Really, Willie Rae. You know how it is, you raised 3 boys and Brenda." Sharon said, smiling carefully at the thought. "Even a tiny scrape on the head seems like a mortal wound until you get it cleaned up. I'm sure I'll have quite a bruise, though. In fact, I think it's already starting to make an appearance." Sharon paused and then added, "Brenda is fine, too. She's here keeping me company while I wait for my results to come back."
"Hi Momma," Brenda said in the background loud enough for her mother to hear.
"I'm sure it will be fine, Willie Rae, it's just a precaution," Sharon said, trying to reassure her.
"Better safe than sorry, that's what I say," Willie Rae agreed, nodding to herself.
"Either Brenda or I will let you know if there's any news after we speak with the doctor, alright? Thank you so much for calling to check in. Please give my best to Clay," Sharon said, effectively ending the conversation.
"Okay dear, I'll do that. You take care now," Willie Rae said, seeming sufficiently reassured for the moment.
"I will. Thank you, Willie Rae. Goodbye."
"Bye bye, now."
"Sorry," Brenda mumbled once Sharon had hung up the phone.
"Your poor mother! Brenda, she sounded really worried. She heard you call out my name and then nothing. And then you didn't answer your phone when she called back."
"Ooh, I didn't mean to, I was just so focused on you and makin' sure you were okay I wasn't thinkin' 'bout her in the slightest," said the blonde as she picked at the blanket.
"I know, and I'm sorry. I think it's safe to say this wasn't how either of us planned to spend our evening…" Sharon said, her hand resting on Brenda's knee, her eyes slowly drifting closed as they waited.
. . .
Once the Chief had been escorted back to wherever the Captain was, Lieutenant Provenza took that as his cue to leave. He sent her a brief text to let her know and then headed back to the murder room.
Everyone was gathered around the monitors in Electronics and as soon as the lieutenant joined them, Buzz pressed play on the footage from the parking garage. They watched a figure in a ski mask walk up and slash first the front and then the back tire on the driver's side of the Captain's car and then quickly duck down to hide at her approach, unable to get any further away without being noticed. They saw him try to stab her and the altercation that ensued, ending with her body slumped and unmoving on the ground. Buzz paused the video.
"Holy crap!" Tao exclaimed.
"Did she stab that idiot with her car key?" Flynn asked.
Sergeant Elliot chuckled, "The Captain said she landed a couple blows."
"She wasn't kidding…" Tao said, shaking his head.
"Her key is on its way to the lab," Elliot reported, adding almost as an afterthought, "I hope she's not too upset about the shoes." All eyes in the room turned to look at him. "What? They're expensive," he said with a shrug.
"And she walked away?" Sergeant Gabriel asked, Buzz taking that as his cue to resume the video.
"Limped away," Provenza corrected.
"She was definitely hurting, but yeah," Elliot confirmed. "She even tried to get the paramedics to let her back into the building, but they refused."
"Wait, who's that running up? Is that—" Buzz paused the footage again.
"I thought you didn't run, sir." Sanchez chimed in, looking over at Lieutenant Provenza. The others suppressed snickers.
"I don't," he replied curtly, crossing his arms and then gesturing with one hand to Buzz to turn off the screens. "Besides, that was before I knew it was the W—Captain," he corrected himself with a glance over at Sergeant Elliot.
"Yeah, Provenza thought he was going to pick up some hot injured chick in the LAPD parking garage on a Tuesday night by swooping in to be her knight in shining orthopedic shoes," Flynn sassed, eliciting another round of chuckles. "She does have nice legs, though…" he added after a pause, all eyes turning to fix on him with varying degrees of shock and disbelief. "What?!" he asked with a shrug, moving the toothpick to the other side of his mouth.
Provenza snorted, "Flynn, you think anything in a skirt has nice legs. We could slap one on a dining room chair and you'd go chasing after it."
"With all due respect, sir, the Lieutenant is right," Sanchez agreed. "We all saw you at happy hour the other night…"
The snickering quieted when Sergeant Elliot cleared his throat, exasperated, but not surprised at how quickly the conversation had devolved.
"Alright, alright, everybody, back to work," Provenza said, waving his hand in the air for emphasis. As everyone began filing out of the room, he turned to face his civilian colleague. "Buzz, send a copy of that over to FID, would you?"
"Yes, sir," Buzz nodded and set about his task.
It was only the three of them left in the room. When Sergeant Elliot reached the door, he paused, turning to address the older man.
"I, for one, am grateful for your quick assistance tonight, Lieutenant," he said, his eyes moving to meet the older man's, "and I think Captain Raydor would agree."
Lieutenant Provenza cleared his throat and nodded once in acknowledgement before making a shooing motion at the younger man, who turned and exited the room.
So far they had a partial plate and what they hoped was the assailant's DNA on the car key, but there was still a lot of work to be done.
. . .
It had been too late to call Atlanta by the time Sharon had been released and Brenda had gotten her home. Sharon texted her sergeant with an update: no internal bleeding, no punctured lung, and, miraculously, no concussion. She had not appreciated Brenda's insinuation that it was because of her thick skull. Brenda had ignored Sharon's attempt at an icy glare and insisted on staying the night, which ended up being just fine with Sharon.
While she appreciated her solitude, Sharon found the blonde's presence a surprising source of comfort, grateful not to be alone after the day's ordeal. On a practical level, it was quite helpful to have someone there to bring her more water or retrieve the spare glasses she'd left on the table in the other room. But more than that, with Brenda there keeping vigil, she thought she might actually be able to relax enough to get some sleep.
As it turned out, the night was a rough one for both of them. Sharon kept waking every time she accidentally shifted in her sleep, groaning at the jolts of pain, especially as her medication started to wear off toward morning. And Brenda, usually a dead-to-the-world deep sleeper, had lain awake most of the night on high alert, adrenaline surging through her each time Sharon stirred.
Brenda's alarm went off the next morning just as she was finally falling asleep. She was exhausted, but as much as she wanted to stay in bed with Sharon all day, she knew she had to drag herself in to work. She checked on Sharon and then stumbled her way into the shower, letting the water beat down on her until it started to run cold. She got dressed in the previous day's rumpled clothes and downed several cups of coffee into which she had emptied more than half of Sharon's sugar bowl, finally starting to feel a little more like herself.
She left Sharon with everything she could possibly think of within arm's reach including her pain pills, extra water, her phone, several books, some yogurt with fruit, and a chocolate pudding cup, which Sharon assured her she did not need. That would have to do for the time being. The brunette also had strict instructions to call or text if she needed anything. Sharon promised she would, and Brenda headed in to work, another cup of coffee in hand.
As she sat at her desk catching up on what she'd missed the previous evening, Brenda's desk phone rang. "Deputy Chief Johnson!" she answered, not bothering to hide her irritation at the interruption.
"Brenda Leigh? It's your mother. I'm so glad you're there, I half-expected to get your voicemail again." Of course it was her Momma, and of course she'd called Brenda's work phone where it would be more difficult to ignore…
"Hi Momma!" she said, with far more enthusiasm than she currently felt. "Hang on just one second for me. Just a second," she said, setting the receiver down on her desk while she walked over to shut her door and flip the blinds closed. "Okay, Momma, I'm back. What were you sayin'?"
"We wanted to know how Sharon was doin'," Willie Rae explained. "We didn't hear from either of you again last night."
Brenda winced at her mother's admonishment. "It was so late in Georgia by the time I got her home and settled…we didn't want to wake you, Momma."
"Well, you still could have called," Willie Rae said, adding more gently, "It's a shame she went and got herself hurt, Sharon's such a nice lady."
"She is, Momma, she is," Brenda agreed, smiling and nodding even though no one could see her.
"And I know she said not to worry, but you sounded so upset when our call cut out last night…" she drifted off, her voice laced with concern.
Brenda chewed on her lip, trying to decide how to respond.
Willie Rae sighed, "I know you don't tell us everythin' that goes on, Brenda Leigh—'specially as it pertains to your work. Your father and I know you don't want us worryin', sugar, but we do anyway."
"Sharon's doin' okay, Momma, really she is. She's home now, restin'," Brenda said reassuringly. "But they wouldn't let me see her for a long time last night and I–I was worried. She was right, when I first walked in the door…" Brenda trailed off, taking a breath to steady herself before continuing in a lighter tone. "Turns out it was mostly bumps and bruises, just like Sharon said."
"I'm glad to hear it, dear," Willie Rae replied, not sounding entirely convinced.
"She did also hurt a couple of her ribs," Brenda admitted, "so she has to take it easy for a while, but really, Momma, she's fine."
"Somethin' tells me your friend Sharon will 'take it easy' about as well as you and your father," Willie Rae said with a chuckle. "You'd best keep a close eye on her."
"I will, Momma," Brenda paused, gnawing on her now swollen lip, trying to drum up the courage to say what she needed to say. Seeing Sharon hurt like that had shifted something, put things into perspective. It's not that she didn't want to tell her parents about them, she just…didn't know how. She wasn't good at this sort of thing. And she certainly hadn't planned on doing it at work, but here she was. A sharp pain in her lip followed by the taste of iron on her tongue brought her back to the conversation at hand.
Brenda took a deep breath, "The thing is…," she began, "Sharon is…um, well…sh–she's not just my friend, Momma," she paused, holding her breath when she was met with silence on the other end of the line, her fingers playing distractedly with the phone cord.
"I mean…well…um," she cleared her throat, "I–I mean she's my friend in the same way that Frank is Jimmy's friend." The words finally dislodged from her throat and came tumbling out. Her hands were shaking so badly she didn't think she could unwrap a Ding Dong if she tried and her mouth was so dry it almost hurt to swallow, but it was too late to go back now. "I–I think, maybe…Sharon is my Frank, Momma." How was it possible to feel both hot and cold at the same time? This was awful! She was going to throw up, that was it. She'd just excuse herself and throw up and they would never talk about any of this ever again.
Brenda's panic spiral was interrupted by the sound of her mother's voice, "Oh. Well, that's nice, dear—Oh!" The blonde heard the loud buzzing of a kitchen timer in the background. "That's my pie! Hold on just a minute."
Brenda sat, paralyzed. Was that—was that it?! Did her Momma understand what she'd just told her? Or had she not even been listening? She'd just let it go by like Brenda had said she was going to the store…Should she bring it up again? She waited, once again gnawing on her now bloody lip. She heard clanging and the squeak of the oven door, and then the sound of a pie pan sliding onto a cooling rack. There was a pause, presumably while Willie Rae put away her hot pads, and then she heard the rustle of hands on the phone receiver again.
"Well now, where were we?" Willie Rae began before being interrupted for a second time. "Clay? Clay!" she yelled, her hand not doing a very good job of covering up the receiver, "Would you go get the door? I'm still on the phone with Brenda Leigh." Brenda could hear her father grumbling none too quietly as he grudgingly complied with his wife's request.
There was a commotion in the background as whoever was at the door was let in, and then her Momma's voice again, "Clay Junior, that pie is fresh out of the oven! Don't you touch it 'til it's had a chance to cool off, you hear? You'll burn yourself!" she scolded. Once she was satisfied no one would be disturbing her pie, she turned her attention back to the phone and Brenda.
"I like your Sharon, Brenda Leigh. And from what I saw when we were there, you two seem to be takin' good care of each other,'' Willie Rae said warmly. "It's nice to see you have a little more balance in your life." Brenda let out a shaky breath and looked up at the ceiling as she attempted to hold back the rapidly-forming tears.
"Don't worry about your Daddy, sugar. I'll work on him. He likes that Ellen Degeneres, and he likes your Sharon, too. I'm sure he'll come around." Brenda quickly pressed her hand to her lips to stifle the choked sob that threatened to erupt from somewhere deep in her chest, her eyes involuntarily squeezing shut in the process, causing a cascade of tears to fall down her flushed cheeks.
"Now," Willie Rae continued, "we'd like to send Sharon some flowers. Could you give me her address? I thought I might've had it from our visit, but I can't seem to find it anywhere."
Brenda wiped at her cheeks and cleared her throat, grateful the conversation was heading back to more familiar territory. "'Course, Momma," she said thickly, "I think Sharon would like that. I think she'd like that very much."