AN: To all my wonderful readers - Thank you so much for following my story and for the feedback I have received. Special thank to "Guest" who I can't thank personally and to those I haven't got around thanking in a PM .

Merci Beau Coup to my lovely beta.

Tanith

ACT III – Part 1

Jeannie's face was turned toward the window of the LTD when she let loose on her father, "Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he tell us he was in pain?"

"Sweet heart, he didn't want you to worry. Guys don't like to admit to these things to…"

"To women? I just don't understand why men have this macho image they feel they need to protect! It's ridiculous, you know that, Mike?" Jeannie scoffed in exasperation, turned to face her father and raised her eyebrows at him.

Mike stole a quick glance his daughter's way but he could see it in her eyes that she was not yet finished. Just like her mother. Women! They seem to be all cut from the same mold. Can't live with them, and sure as hell can't live without them.

"I mean, what are they trying to prove? Sometimes I wonder who is worse, you or him? I think he's been hanging around you too long and…"

"Now hold on a minute, Jeannie! Are you mad at him or me?"

"Both!" Jeannie countered with a defiant edge to her voice. "You're a bad influence," she mumbled before diverting her gaze once more to the passenger side window. She could feel a prickling sensation at the corners of her eyes and a painful lump rising in the back of her throat.

Mike sighed, opened his mouth to argue his point but decided it would wiser to let Jeannie win this round and kept his silence. With another audible sigh he parked the car at the front of the hotel. "If I hear anything, I'll call you but in the meantime I want you to stay put, okay?"

Jeannie sighed then with a nod of her head she climbed out of the car. Mike only pulled out from the curb once he saw the hotel door closed behind Jeannie.

The trip to Simmons Lock and Key took less than fifteen minutes. The Lieutenant and Inspector waited at the reception desk before being called in to Paul Simmon's office.

"Take a seat. What can I do for you today, gentlemen?" After formal introductions were made, Simmons gestured for the two detectives to take a seat in front of his desk.

"We're investigating a series of breaking and entering cases, occurring over the last few weeks in the area," Mike Stone began.

"Wait a minute, I'm sorry, but did you say you were from homicide, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, that's right. My partner was seriously wounded after walking in on the intruders involved in last night's break in."

"I see. Is he going to be alright?" the business owner asked with genuine sincerity.

"We hope so," Mike replied, a little uneasily. He tried not to let his emotions show and kept his reply short. In his heart he prayed that Steve would truly be alright and he wondered if the words that left his lips were spoken to convince himself rather than to reassure the man in front of him.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what these crimes have to do with me, but I'll help in any way I can. I mean, if you're here to ask if we can help the victims feel more secure about the locks in their homes, I'm sure we can work out an arrangement," Simmons offered, his expression betraying his confusion.

"Thank you, Mr. Simmons, but we're not here to ask for your services. I'm afraid the only connections we have between the victims are the fact that each household made use of your services prior to their homes being burgled. We're hoping you could shed some light into this," Mike continued. He was beginning to like the man's integrity the more he conversed with him.

"I'm not quite sure I follow you, Lieutenant, but I'm willing to listen and cooperate with the law. Burglary is a serious offense and Simmons Lock and Key has a reputation to protect. If you're suggesting that there's been unlawful misconduct by any of the employees here or breaches in security, I can assure you we'll work with the authorities to find those responsible. I do ask that, in return, you will do everything you can to ensure our name is not tarnished during the course of the investigation. My father worked hard to build an honest business and I intend to keep it that way."

"I understand and respect your concern. The sooner we can catch those responsible, the quicker we can leave this behind us. Can you think of anyone under your employ who has been acting strangely or complained of being short of cash?"

"No, I can't think of anyone who could be involved in such crimes."

"What about disgruntled ex-employees?" Inspector Bill Tanner chimed in.

"No. I haven't had any…" Simmons paused as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute, there was one guy we let go a few days ago. I'm sorry, I didn't think. You see, he was a fill in for one of our regular guys who was on vacation abroad. We had to let him go when his contract ran out. Had we been able to offer him more work, we would have offered him another contract but business wasn't any heavier than usual and with our competitor offering discounted rates, I'm afraid we may have lost some potential clients."

"How did he take it?" Mike asked.

"Well, we gave him two weeks' notice but he knew when Eddie was due back and I was a little surprised that he took the news rather strongly."

"How so?" Mike pressed.

"He said that he didn't think it was fair for us to brush him off and that he had been under the impression that he would be given something more permanent."

"And did you perhaps give him that impression?" Tanner added.

"No. His contract was very specific," Simmons sighed.

"Would you mind if we took a look at his file and a copy of his contract, Mr. Simmons? If you could also provide us with a copy of the receipts for all his jobs, that would be most helpful," Mike asked.

"Certainly. His name is Wade Moreno. I'll get his file and my secretary will provide you with copies of the receipts."

Mike perused through Wade Moreno's file on the drive back to the office with Tanner behind the wheel of the Galaxy.

"Found anything?" Tanner asked.

"Not yet," Mike replied, his eyes still scanning through the documents.

"Inspectors 81. Dispatch to Mike Stone," the radio crackled. The Lieutenant reached for the mike.

"Inspectors 81. This is Mike Stone. Go ahead."

"Mike, it's Rudy. I just got a call from the hospital. Steve's been rushed back into surgery. He started bleeding internally. The doctors say he has a fifty-fifty chance. If you want to be with him, I'll understand."

Mike's face drained of color and he struggled to find his voice to respond.

"Mike? Do you read me?"

"Yeah, I read you. I'm on my way to the office. 10-4," Mike croaked then replaced the receiver below the dash. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes as if they were strained. He could feel moisture transferring onto his fingers from the contact and he wished right at that precise moment in time he could retreat into his own fortress of solitude.

"Mike, would you like me to turn around and take you to the hospital?" Tanner asked slowly.

"No. There's nothing I can do for him at that hospital. Sitting around in that waiting room is not going to help us find who did this to him!" Mike asserted in a voice thick with emotion. "He's going to be fine. Just fine. I'm not losing him, Bill. I can't lose him!"

Without another word, Tanner returned his eyes to the road ahead and respected the older man's need for silence and some time to regain his composure.

Selling her body to make ends meet, Rosy Mathews didn't know any other way to live. Raised by a mother who was a prostitute and never knowing her biological father, she accepted that life was not always fair but that didn't mean she tolerated being treated like garbage. She was human after all and emotions were real to her. After leaving Wade's place, she took a long shower and cried in self-pity. Though she may be outwardly hardened, there were times she still broke from the feeling of loneliness and despair. Taking one last long drag of the cigarette, she sat on the old decrepit chair at the small round table that served as her dining table with room for one. Her eyes were glued to the television screen as she watched the news broadcast.

"Police are investigating the shooting of twenty-eight year old Inspector Steven Keller, a homicide detective, after he was gunned down at his partner's home, following a bungled burglary last night…"

"Cute. What a waste," Rosy said aloud when a photo of the young victim flashed on the screen. Then something stirred in her memory. "Wait a minute!" Dropping her eyes to the table top, she deposited the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray and picked up the wallet she stole from Wade. "Son of a bitch shot a cop. None of my business. I'm just a whore, why should I care! Damn it!" Slamming the wallet back down on to the table, Rosy struggled to come to terms with what her discovery could mean for her. If she were caught with her finger prints all over the wallet, she could face charges. If she reported Moreno to the police, she could be another floater in the Bay by morning. She thought back to when Rick Stanford was killed. She remembered it like it was yesterday. To her, he was a cop with a heart who showed her an act of kindness. The type of kindness that ended his life and spared hers. From that day forth, she had made a promise to herself that she would clean up her act and be a good girl. It was a hollow promise that left her feeling even more indebted to what Officer Rick Stanford did for her. She couldn't quite lay a finger on it, but something about Steve Keller's face staring back at her from the photograph tugged at her heart. She wondered if it was his eyes. The same color as Rick's. Or their age. Maybe it was because they were both cheated of their lives by being at the wrong place at the wrong time. No, Keller's still alive. Stanford's dead. He ain't coming back. Oh, what do I do?