Sharon POV

It's amazing, the difference a little time can make.

Barely more than a day.

That's it.

Twenty-seven hours ago, I learned Stroh was dead.

Since then, so much has happened.

Julio and Andy were both accused and then absolved of playing a role in the murder.

Captain Wright divulged to Taylor that Andy and I are in a relationship.

And he tried to sabotage my division in an effort to make me look incompetent, so that he could make a play for my job.

Andy and I slept together. In the literal sense only, but I still like thinking it. Besides, spending the night with someone without making love can often be just as intimate.

Rusty quickly re-acclimated to not having to look over his shoulder. And he met someone, someone who makes him smile and act like a perfectly normal college freshman.

And certainly not least of all, we discovered the truth behind the murder of Phillip Stroh.

Earlier today, I excused myself from Taylor's office as soon as Mike dropped the bombshell.

"Sharon Beck? Are you sure?" I asked him as we strode quickly back to the murder room.

"Buzz already requested the interview tapes."

"Do we know where Henry Mills is right now?"

"Ma'am, even though his conviction was overturned, he's still on parole from a previous crime, so his p.o. was able to give me a current address," Julio spoke up, having heard the question upon my arrival. "Me and Sykes can go pick him up. Unless I'm still tied to a desk, I mean."

"Go," I said immediately, then I said, "Wait, let me make this official. Detective Sanchez, did you kill Phillip Stroh?"

"Only in my dreams, ma'am," he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes and then pointed at the door, so he and Amy hurriedly left the room.

"Uh, I didn't kill him either," Andy said, raising his hand and speaking tentatively, a cute little half-smile on his face. "Am I back on full duty, too?"

"Yes," I answered, ignoring the little thrill that rolled through me just at the sight of him.

It's been almost two hours since I kissed him.

That thought came completely unbidden and I shoved it from my mind as I said, "Lieutenant Provenza, will you and Andy please go over to the county jail and bring Sharon Beck to me?"

I watched Andy for a moment as he pulled on his jacket, and then I turned to Provenza, who was still in his chair, studying me.

"What are you going to tell Rusty?" he asked with concern.

"Nothing yet. First I need to find out the truth."

"You mean, is it a coincidence that she was visited in jail by a man who not only knew Stroh but who also carried a Glock 19?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean," I answered.

I don't know how Rusty's going to feel about this, if his mother's behind Stroh's death.

I don't know how I feel about it, either, but I'm hoping I do by the time I talk to him.

But for the moment, I could only deal in facts.

Once they were gone, I turned back to Mike.

"I need you to pull Andy's cell phone records from Friday night, including which tower was providing service."

"Alibi?" Mike asked, already turning to type as he asked the question.

"Yes, there should be a call on there from shortly before eleven until sometime after one a.m."

He nodded, but was engrossed with his task, so he didn't say anything more, and then Buzz came into the room.

"I found what you needed," he said, holding up a data stick and wiggling it. "Detective Sanchez was caught on camera, heading away from your home, at eleven-fifteen, and then he shows up across town, near his house almost twenty-five miles away at twelve oh-two."

He plugged the stick into a computer and showed me the footage as he gave the play-by-play, and then he looked at me expectantly.

"Considering traffic, and the time of death, it would be impossible," he stated.

"Yes, perfect. Mike, what do you have?"

"Just one more second," he said as he went to the printer. He pulled a paper from it, and then went back to his desk for a highlighter. "He received a call at ten-fifty, and it lasted for one hundred thirty-seven minutes. The entire thing worked off a tower to the south of him, the opposite direction of your home, so even if he started the call at home, if he'd started driving in your direction…"

"It would've changed towers," I finished. "Great."

"Who talks on the phone for more than two hours?" Buzz questioned, looking at me to back him up in making fun of Andy.

I shrugged and took the paper from Mike, who was holding back a smile as he said, "Two people who have a lot to say to each other, I guess."

I suppose he recognized the number that called Andy.

"Buzz, please take these down to Captain Wright, and let him know that I've taken the liberty of returning both detectives to full duty."

I sent Buzz on his way with the cell records and the data stick. It was tempting to do it myself, to rub it in Wright's face, but I'm not going to stoop to his level.

"Can you check on that glove for me, to see if they were able to pull any prints?" I said to Mike as I made my way back to my office.

Once inside, I made a quick call to Taylor to apprise him of our progress.

"What are you going to do with her?" he asked me, referring to Rusty's mom.

"It's not up to me. I'm going to find out if she knew about the murder, or if she arranged it, and then I'll call DDA Rios and turn it over to her."

"She's already serving out a deal," he reminded me. "It'll trigger a full sentence, in addition to the new time."

"What are my options? To look the other way and pretend it didn't happen?"

"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to hand this whole thing over to Wright."

"Internal Affairs? Why?"

"Okay, so not him, but Robbery Homicide. Someone whose son isn't also the son of the suspect."

"I'm closing this case, Chief," I said firmly, and I hung up with him just as Mike came into my office.

"They got a partial print," he said. "It's a match for Henry Mills."

An hour later, I had Henry in one interview room and Sharon Beck in another. They've both been read their rights, and they both waived representation, at least for now. Mills has to know he's in a world of trouble because Julio and Amy found the Glock 19 in question, and sent it over to ballistics. Whether it's a match for our gun or not, he's not allowed to possess a weapon, so he's going back to jail for violating the terms of his parole.

But I'm pretty sure it's going to be a match, so he'll be doing a lot more than a few months for the weapons charge.

Julio is in with Mills, just keeping watch, but Sharon is on her own. She knows most of us, and I didn't want her to attempt a conversation just yet. Leaving her alone in the interrogation room will give her time for the gravity of the moment to weigh on her, so I decided to wait a few more minutes. Everyone else was already in electronics, so I took the time to let my mind wander, thinking ahead to the conversation I would need to have with Rusty.

I felt Andy come up behind me, but I didn't turn around. And while I trusted him not to stand too close when we're at work, at the same time, I was craving the feel of his arms around me.

"It's the one thing I like about that woman," he said quietly. "Well, that and I like her kid."

"You like that she apparently arranged a hit?"

"On the man who wanted to kill her son. And maybe she didn't know what he had planned for you, but she unwittingly stopped that, too, so…yeah."

I understand what he's saying. It's part of why I feel so conflicted. But if she knew about Stroh's plan, why didn't she just tell me? Or tell any one of the guards in jail? We could've done something to stop it.

"Hey," he continued, touching me on the shoulder, silently asking me to turn around, so I did, making a point to keep several inches of space between us, in spite of the fact that I'd still like to go into his arms. "Why don't you let me do this?"

"It has to be me," I said with a gentle shake of my head.

I can't explain why it has to be me, but I don't need to, because Andy understands.

He held my gaze for a long minute, and then gave me an encouraging nod, and I went into the interrogation room.

Sharon glared at me as I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. I keep tabs on her every week, through my contacts at the jail, and I monitor via video her conversations with Rusty, but I don't visit myself anymore, so it's been awhile since I've seen her in person.

"Captain Raydor," Sharon said to me, resentment dripping from her voice. "I bet you love this, don't you? Sending your lackeys to bring me here at your bidding, keeping me locked up in this room until you decide you have the time… "

"Charging my son's birth mother with murder?" I finished. I knew my choice of words would enrage her, and she didn't disappoint.

"He is not your son! You think you can claim him just because you buy him some clothes and put a roof over his head for a few years? I gave birth to him."

"And you abandoned him. Twice."

More than that really, if you count the number of times she ended up in rehab or jail.

"But," I continued, raising my voice to talk over her protest. "We're not here to debate parentage. We're talking about murder, and how you convinced Henry Mills to kill Phillip Stroh."

She sat back in her chair, dropping her gaze for a brief moment, to her shackled hands that rested on the table, and then she looked up at me again, her voice suddenly sugary sweet.

"Does he know about it? I mean, my little boy? Does he know what I did for him?"

Her quick concession caught me by surprise, but it also speaks to the fact that she has no real grasp on the fact that she's done anything wrong.

Stems from a life of getting away with everything, as she basically did until last summer when I enforced her shoplifting sentence. Prior to that, she was an expert at evading repercussions.

"I need you to start from the beginning, and tell me what happened."

So she did.

She told me how she met Henry Mills in the library.

"He knows everything that goes on," she bragged. "And one day he commented on how my name was the same as some kid his lawyer's trying to get rid of."

That was a few months ago, and after that, she started talking to him every chance she got, pumping him for details. Honestly, I have to give her credit for even relating the situation to Rusty. She must have actually listened to him at some point, when he discussed his witness status.

Eventually, she and Henry became friends, and she finally admitted to him that the kid was her son.

"He said you guys had Stroh locked down, that he'd never be able to get to him," she snapped at me. "So what the hell happened, huh? How'd he get away from you? This is you, protecting my little boy? By letting the man who wants to kill him escape?"

I ignored her well-placed jab and pushed forward with the interview.

"So Henry visited you in jail. To tell you about the escape?"

"Yeah. He said he was indebted to Stroh for getting him out, but he didn't want to see a kid get hurt. So he asked what it was worth to me, to get rid of him."

"He brought it up?"

She shrugged and started picking at her cuticles, and then she yelled defiantly, "He's my son! And you weren't doing anything to keep him safe, so yeah, when Henry brought it up, I took him up on it."

"And what was it? Worth to you, I mean?"

"He said he still had some pull with the guards, and that he'd arrange one of those…what do you call it? A visit where you get to…"

"Conjugal visit," I supplied, interrupting her descriptive.

I felt sick to my stomach.

She arranged to sleep with the guy so that he'd kill the man who wanted to kill her son. How is that better than calling the police? I just don't understand the way her mind works.

"That's all it took?" I asked her. "Sex for murder?"

She rolled her eyes and then pinned me with a hard stare as she accused, "What, you think men don't want me? I do okay, you know? Better than you, probably, with your little uptight suits and holier-than-thou attitude."

"I'm just surprised, considering he was on the outside and could probably find a willing partner," I pressed, because her mercurial demeanor usually suggests she's not telling the truth. "So why would he offer to kill just for a quickie in a prison broom closet?"

Her lack of outburst confirmed that there was more to the story, and after looking at me for a long minute, she finally relented, filling in the last of the blanks.

"Okay, so the sex was my idea. I've been in here a long time, you know? So don't you sit there and judge me…"

"I'm not. And I don't care about that part. Tell me how you got him to do it."

"He asked me what my son had on Stroh. And I told him that he molested him."

"How'd you know that would work?"

Buzz's voice came into my ear at that moment, saying, "Captain, Amy said Henry Mills' file shows he was abused growing up, first by his father and then his uncle," and at the same time, Sharon said, "I told you, we were friends. I knew about his past."

So she knew about the abuse. And she manipulated him into feeling personal outrage for Stroh.

That explains the hostile overkill, I thought. Henry was getting payback on abusers by killing Stroh.

I took a deep breath and decided it was time to wrap it up, but I still had one more thing on my mind.

"You had to know we'd find out that you were behind this," I said. "And now Rusty will know."

"Are you kidding me? I want him to know. Then he'll see how much I love him, what I'm willing to do for him, which is so much more than you would ever do, and then he won't want you to be his mother anymore. Just me. Because he's my little boy, not yours."

I know there's no reasoning with someone like her, but I still had to try.

"You know I've never tried to take him away from you, right? I wasn't trying to replace you," I explained, but she shifted in her chair, looking down at the table and completely tuning me out.

"Okay," I said as I got up. "We're going to send you to lock-up for tonight, and tomorrow the DDA can decide what happens from here."

I headed for the door, and then she spoke up, saying, "You'll tell him, right? What I did for him?"

"Yes," I answered, turning back to look at her. "Once again, I'll be the one to give him the bad news about his mother's exploits. I'll see his disappointment and his hurt over your actions, and then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he moves past it, so that he can have a normal life."

She shouted something at me as I left the room, but I don't know what she said. I don't care, either. All I can think about is how this is going to make Rusty feel. I know that I'm not to blame for her twisted perspective, but it's still a lot to absorb. It will be for Rusty, too, because if I feel partially responsible, how's he going to feel?

I had initially planned to go talk to Henry next, but I've lost my desire to hear what he has to say. He did it. We know he did it, and the gun currently in our ballistics department will be the final nail in his coffin, so instead, I stuck my head in electronics and said, "Mike, go in with Julio and get Henry's statement, and then arrange for both of them to go to lock-up until we get a DDA involved tomorrow. Once they're secured, everyone can go home. We've worked enough this weekend, and the paperwork can wait until morning."

I left before hearing their responses, mostly because I expected platitudes about the interview, and I wasn't ready to accept them yet. Instead, I headed for the solitude of my office, except when I got there, I found Captain Wright waiting for me.

"Make yourself at home," I said with heavy sarcasm, since he was already sitting in a visitor's chair.

I made my way around my desk, wanting the heavy structure between us, both as a symbol of my authority in this room as well as an obstacle to keep me from putting my hands around his neck.

"I didn't touch anything," he offered, smiling at me in that smarmy way of his. I'm going to have to make a point of keep my division on the straight and narrow, because I dread the thought of having to deal with this guy again.

"Unless you outrank me, which you don't, protocol is to wait outside the office," I stated precisely.

"My apologies," he replied, sounding anything but contrite. "I just wanted to let you know that I closed the case."

"Yes, so did I."

"You found Stroh's killer?"

"And obtained a confession. That's how it's done in Major Crimes. "

I'm being rude, I know, but I don't care. He hasn't earned anything else from me.

"You know, maybe we need to start again," he suggested. "We'll surely be working together again, especially now that you have no authority over Lieutenant Flynn. It only makes sense if I'm the one who handles his complaints and reprimands. And after seeing his file…well, I'm sure I'll be around here a lot."

"My lieutenant will report directly to Chief Taylor, not you," I corrected. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

I pointed at the door, nodding in that direction to get him moving along, and after a brief pause, he reluctantly got to his feet as he pushed, "Are you afraid I'll be too hard on your boyfriend?"

"I have no doubt you'll be juvenile and unprofessional, so do us both a favor and stay the hell out of my murder room."

That last remark was said in a much louder voice than I typically use, but I'd had enough of him. It seems he's going to continue gunning for my job, so I'll have to keep my eye on him, but for the moment, I just wanted him gone.

Fortunately, he took my less than subtle hint, because after smiling at me once more, he said, "Have a nice day, Captain," and then he left my office.

Once he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.

It's now been twenty-seven hours since I first took the call about Phillip Stroh, and I'm ready to go home.

I won't get to talk to Rusty until later this evening, since he's at the beach, which means I'll rehash what I want to say to him in my mind, all afternoon.

How is he going to handle this? He's worked so hard and come so far, and now this…

"Captain?"

Andy's gentle voice called to me from my open office doorway.

He's concerned about me, I know. Dealing with Sharon Beck has always triggered a myriad of feelings in me, and this time was certainly the worst, but I can't think about myself right now, only Rusty.

"Yes, come in," I responded, and I can't help it. I'm happy to see him.

"Rusty's mom is on her way to lock-up. Henry, too. He gave a full confession, complete with the detailed account of how it went down."

"His story matched hers?"

"Pretty much. As much as a man and a woman can agree on the details of anything," he said with a grin, and I found myself smiling back at him, relaxing slightly as I usually do when he's around.

"Great, thank you. Is everyone wrapping it up to go home?"

"Half of them are gone already," he said with a nod. "But hey, Rusty's here."

"He is? Where?" I asked in surprise.

"Break room. I just bumped into him a minute ago. He said he was almost to your office when he heard you ripping into someone, so he thought it'd be safer to stay away."

"I was not ripping into anyone," I corrected.

"Wright?" he asked with amusement.

I nodded and admitted, "Okay, so maybe I was a little."

Standing up from my chair, I went around the desk over to the doorway as Andy murmured, "I hope it was more than a little."

I smiled at him and put my hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly before saying, "Let me go talk to him, and then…"

I stopped talking briefly, checking to make sure no one was in the vicinity before finishing, "Maybe we can spend the afternoon together."

"Is there a nap in our future? Because as much as I loved sleeping on your couch…"

I laughed as I nodded in agreement, because I'm so tired, too, and then I stepped past him, out into the hall before turning back.

"Oh, Rusty didn't see her, did he?"

The thought of him bumping into his mom unexpectedly, while she's in shackles and feeling chatty about her achievement, that's just too much.

"No, it's all good, don't worry," he assured me.

I took my time walking to the break room, trying to decide exactly how to tell him.

So much for that normal life I'm trying to give him.

What was she thinking?

I've been asking myself that since the day I met Rusty, and I still don't have an answer.

"Oh, hey, Sharon," Rusty said as I entered the room. He was drinking a soda and flipping through a book and looking so happy and well-adjusted. "I guess you finished eviscerating that guy in your office, huh? I was kind of having flashbacks to you getting on me that time, after I got in the fight at school, when you wanted me to stand in the corner to think about what I did."

He closed the book as he sat back to look at me, a playful grin on his face, and in spite of what I'm about to tell him, I had to smile at the memory.

"You're the one who brought up standing in the corner," I reminded him. "I just happened to think it was a good idea."

He chuckled for a moment, and then I said, "I thought you were meeting Kevin at the beach?"

"Yes," he said as he got up from the chair. "I am, but after I left, I realized I was almost out of gas, and I'm low on cash, and my debit card is acting up again, so…"

"We'll order you a new one. And I don't think I have any cash, either, but I'll just give you my card for the day."

"Or I can run out and use it, and then bring it back to you," he suggested. "I don't want to leave you strapped either."

"I'll be fine," I promised.

"Right. Because Flynn will buy you whatever you need," he teased.

"Because I'm just going home," I corrected.

He made a dubious noise, and then laughed again as he started to leave, probably so we could go to my office where I can get my debit card for him, but I held back, causing him to pause in the doorway.

"Hang on a minute. I need to talk to you about something."

"About the investigation?" he asked as he came back to stand next to me. "Did you find out who killed Stroh?"

"Yes, actually. We have the people in custody."

"More than one?"

"One person asked the other to do it, so they're both equally culpable."

He nodded, and then said, "You know what? I don't care. The guy's dead, and if anyone deserves to be dead, it's him. I mean, look at all those girls he killed. And the judge. And the people who were killed just so he could send messages to Wade Weller."

"Rusty, sit down, honey," I said softly as I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his hand as he looked at me in question. We sat down, and then I bit the bullet and said, "It was your mom."

"Wait, what? My mom? Sharon Beck?"

It says something that he had to clarify using her full name.

"Yes. She met a man in jail, someone who got out a few weeks ago, someone who was also familiar with Stroh. He told her about his escape, and she…talked him into killing him."

Hard words to say, but best just to say them.

And his reaction was what I've learned to expect from him.

Mature and inquisitive, without any sign of the juvenile outbursts he was prone to when he first came to live with me.

"How could she do something like that?" he asked.

"A mother protects her kids," I reasoned, feeling the need to try to explain her actions, even when I don't fully understand them myself. "If he'd come into our home, I wouldn't have thought twice about shooting him."

"I appreciate you trying to make it seem not so bad, but it is. You would've protected our home, but you didn't gun him down in the streets. Why? Why would she do that?"

"I think she wanted you to see how much she loves you."

"God, she always misses the mark when it comes to parenting, doesn't she? How much she loves me? All she had to do was be present. Stay sober. Is that so hard? No, never mind. Obviously it is too hard for her."

"Rusty," I began, but he brought his eyes to mine, holding my gaze and looking so strong and determined.

"No, it's okay, really. Did you talk to her?"

"I did."

"I bet she tried to make this seem like your fault, didn't she? Because of the adoption."

"She made the suggestion, yes."

He shook his head in annoyance and said, "It's not, you know that, right? She just always finds a convenient excuse for everything she does. She's going away for a long time now, isn't she?"

"Yes, I'm not sure what kind of deal…"

"No deals," he interrupted. "She's proven for the last time that jail is exactly where she belongs."

"For what it's worth, she does love you."

"I'm just glad it was only someone like Stroh that she had killed," he said, and then to my surprise, he reached over and threw his arms around me. "What if she'd tried to do something to you? I mean, I didn't consider that she had it in her before, but now…"

It never occurred to me either, even knowing how much she hates me since the one-year jail deal, and the adoption.

"Just make sure they watch her in jail, okay?" he finished, his arms still holding me tight.

"I will," I promised.

He squeezed once more and then let me go, and I asked, "Are you okay?"

"I can't let her life affect me anymore," he said reasonably. "She'll only pull me down with her, and after all you've done for me…"

"After what we've done for each other," I corrected with a smile.

"Right," he agreed, smiling back at me. "After everything, I'm not looking back. I know she's my mother, and I can't change that, but you're my mom."

As if he hadn't just flooded my heart, he nonchalantly checked his watch and said, "I'm going to be late if I don't get going. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Am I okay?" I repeated. "Yes, I'm fine. And you?"

"I've got a date at the beach with a hot guy, and you're about to give me your debit card, so I'd say I'm pretty good."

I watched his eyes as he made the casual statement, and it seems he truly is good.

Maybe this was the final straw for him.

He walked with me back to my office where I retrieved the card, and after another hug, I sent him on his way.

A moment later, Andy came in.

"How'd it go?" he asked with concern. "I saw the kid leave, and he looked okay, so…"

"It's good," I agreed, suddenly feeling lighter than I have since Sharon's name first popped up this morning. "Get your coat, and we'll talk about it at home."

I let Andy drive me home, choosing to leave my car at work. It would be silly for us to follow each other to my place, and then do the same thing in reverse in the morning.

And I know, that assumes he's going to stay the night tonight, but I'm good with that. He spent the night last night and nothing happened. Well, not nothing, but still…we can be mature about this. It's not like we're going to go home and rip each other's clothes off.

"So Rusty's on his date?" Andy asked, breaking the silence in the car.

I realized that I've kept most of today locked up inside, and I can't do that if I want to be half of a successful relationship, so I turned in my seat, bringing one leg up beneath me, and I moved my hand over onto his thigh, and then I told him everything.

About Rusty.

About Wright.

About Taylor.

It felt good to get it all out there, and Andy's a good listener, asking the right questions to prompt more information.

"He back-dated it all the way to August?" he questioned in amusement as I wrapped up my recount. "See? You really were the only one who didn't see it."

I laughed at his tease, reaching up to kiss his cheek, and by this point, he had pulled the car into the garage, so he put the gear in park and then turned to me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me purposefully. It was exhilarating and arousing and that, combined with our previous conversation, made the whole day's stresses just wash off of me.

It also made me think again about my last night's plan, the one that involved going upstairs and going straight to bed. Maybe there will be a little clothes ripping going on, I thought with a smile.

We got out of the car and held hands as we walked inside, all the way up in the elevator and down the hall to my condo. Once inside, he locked up behind us while I dropped my purse on the table near the door, and then took off my jacket and hung it up.

"We have all afternoon," he said as he followed me into the living room. "What do you want to do?"

I paused for a moment, knowing what I want to do but needing to be sure in my mind that it's the right thing.

But it is, I think, because there are plenty of possibilities rolling through my mind, for how to pass the time, but the most appealing one is to spend the day in bed with Andy.

Normal? Not for me. Or at least, it didn't used to be.

But maybe it is now, and I like it.

A lot.

So without a word, I turned and headed for the bedroom, undoing the buttons on my blouse as I walked down the hall.

"Um…should I go?" he asked me uncertainly. "Or are you just going to change clothes?"

I stopped at the doorway to my room, turning to face him, and appreciating the way his gaze moves over me and my now-unbuttoned blouse that's hanging loosely, and his clear interest warms my blood.

"Neither," I said, pushing the blouse back off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor as I entered my room before calling out challengingly, "Are you coming?"

The End