Prologue

"Homicide, Sergeant Haseejian."

"Norm, is Mike in yet?"

"No. I thought he was picking you up?"

"Yeah, he was, but there's been no sign of him. He's already fifteen minutes late – and you know that's not like him. I called his house and there's no answer. He might be on the way but he usually calls when he's gonna be late, which is almost never."

"Yeah, don't I know it."

"Look, he had a…date with Irene last night. Do me a favor, will ya, and call Robbery and see if she's in yet? Then call me back, okay?"

"Sure."

# # # # #

"Yeah?"

"So, I called Robbery – Irene ain't in yet either. What do you think, they, ah….I don' know, forgot the time..?"

"Mike? Forget to come into work? Yeah, right. Listen, I'm gonna swing by his place, see if I can locate his car. I'll call you if I find out anything."

# # # # #

The Porsche swung onto De Haro and Steve was only slightly relieved to see the tan LTD parked at the curb in front of his partner's house. If he was home, why wasn't Mike answering his phone?

The inspector took the steps two at a time, pounding on the door and pushing the doorbell when he got to the stoop. When there was no response, he found the door key on his ring and let himself in.

The lights were off and the place was silent. Mike's shoes were by the front door and his hat and suitcoat tossed unceremoniously on the couch. Soundlessly, Steve peeked into the empty kitchen then mounted the stairs to the second floor. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and he discreetly pushed it open.

Still in his dress shirt and pants, Mike was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, forearms resting on his drawn-up knees. He looked shaken and scared.

Trying to mask his concern, Steve moved slowly and cautiously deeper into the room. "Mike?" he said gently, "Mike, are you okay?"

His partner turned hesitantly towards him and a slightly confused smile crossed his face. "Steve? What are you doing here?"

"Ah, you were supposed to pick me up? We're supposed to be at work?" Steve ventured carefully.

Mike's brow furrowed and he slowly raised his left wrist to look at his watch. "Oh yeah, hunh… Sorry about that," he said quietly, sounding disoriented.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed. "Mike, what's going on? Are you okay?"

The older man nodded but said nothing.

"Did something happen between you and Irene last night?"

At the mention of his ' lady friend's' name, Mike started slightly and turned sharply to his companion. "What do you mean?"

Taken aback, Steve continued delicately, "Well, I just thought maybe, I don't know, you guys had a falling out of some kind...?" He was groping for a euphemistic alternative for 'being dumped'.

Mike smiled wistfully and shook his head. "No, ah, no, we're good, we're, ah, we're fine," he said almost breathlessly then swallowed hard, his expression turning to helpless confusion.

"Mike, you're starting to scare me here. What the hell's going on?"

The older man turned stunned eyes in his direction, seeming to really see his young partner for the first time. He took a deep breath and held it, bringing his right hand to his face and gripping his lower jaw. His gaze slowly drifted away and when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "It's Irene. She's, ah, she's pregnant."