AN: As always many thanks to everyone for reading! Special thanks to my wonderful beta for editing. Thanks goes to "The Streets of Hawaii Five-O" for her assistance in proof reading this chapter. There may be a bit of a delay until my next update as I have a couple of other stories crying for attention but I'll try my best to not keep y'all waiting too long.
ACT II: Part 2
Residence of Steve Keller, 1973
After killing time with small talk for the better part of the afternoon, Steve found that the silence filling the gaps became intolerable for the both of them. The sky was darkening outside and the clock ran down the minutes and hours. Finally, Jeannie timidly asked Steve if he'd mind her commandeering his kitchen. Steve's enthusiasm was a mark of his immense relief that they'd be doing something other than sitting idly and waiting, forcing mindless conversation. The ritual of preparing omelettes resulted in some much needed laughter. As Jeannie beat the eggs, the telephone rang shrilly bringing them back to the nervousness of reality. Jeannie froze where she stood, the yolk dripping on to the floor from the fork. Steve wiped his hands dry on the dish towel, gave Jeannie a faint smile, then rushed to the phone in the living room. Picking up the receiver carefully after letting it ring one more time, he stayed silent until he could hear Mike's voice on the other line.
"It's just me, buddy boy."
"It's about time you called." Steve's quip sounded strained even to his own ears.
"Is everything alright? How're you two holding up?"
"Not bad, considering. How about you? How are things on your end?"
"Okay, the word out on the street is that Larson likes to cruise the bars along Mission and Market. Though he usually keeps to himself, I spent some time talking with one of the bar tenders and according to him, Larson was seen threatening a patron with a switchblade three nights ago over some trivial matter. I spoke to Doc earlier and got a read out of the autopsy report on Arnold Crane. His wounds were consistent with those made by a switchblade. For someone who is well known around the bars in the area, no one can tell me if they've seen him since this morning. The way I figure it is people are scared. Even the bartender I spoke to clammed up real quick as soon as he saw the news broadcast of the murder on the TV." Mike updated his partner on his findings.
"Is it possible he skipped town right after he left the store?" Steve proposed uncertainly.
"He has no money and no wheels. Unless he hitched a ride out, he's somewhere out there, holed up, waiting for an opportunity to strike out at his next victim. The more I read about him, Steve, the more I'm convinced that until he is safely locked away behind bars, we're going to be looking at more victims real soon. He's volatile and violent to the extreme."
"Did the guys at the lab find Jeannie's purse?" A pause on the other end of the line confirmed Steve's thoughts. "Mike?"
"They haven't found it, yet. But they did find something that really drives it all home. Larson's prints covered the place including those smeared in the victim's own blood all over the cash drawer." Mike paused then before Steve could respond he added, "Steve, knowing Jeannie, she'll be asking you questions the moment you get off the phone. She doesn't need to know the details. In fact, it's probably best you don't tell her anything unless you have to."
"Right." Steve sighed in dismay and ran his fingers through the waves of his light brown hair. He felt uneasy about lying to Jeannie but at the same time he agreed with Mike. Why worry her more?
"Listen, buddy boy, I'm going to be another couple of hours before I can get to your place. I'm back at the office, waiting on some phone calls. Do us a favor, will you? Tell Jeannie not to wait for me."
"She'll ground you, you know that right?" Steve's attempt to lighten the mood failed to deliver.
"Yeah, I know." Mike responded in kind.
Steve ended the call and returned to the kitchen to find Jeannie hastily cleaning up the sticky yellow droplets from the floor. She looked up at Steve with a questioning look in her eyes.
"Was that Mike?"
"Yeah. He called to say that he may not make it for dinner. He said that we should go ahead without him."
"I guess I should be used to it by now." Jeannie straightened and walked over to the sink to rinse out the cloth she held in her hands.
Not sure what to say, Steve followed Jeannie and rested his hands on her shoulders. He could feel the tension in her stiff muscles as she turned on the tap, ignoring his presence. "Hey, it's going to be okay. He'll be home before you know it." He whispered then gently kneaded Jeannie's shoulders, working out the knots that gathered. He smiled to himself as he felt her relax beneath his touch.
"Steve?" Jeannie murmured.
"Hmmm."
"You know in all the years I knew you, you never did tell me why you decided on becoming a cop."
"You never asked."
"Well, I'm asking now. Why?" Jeannie turned off the tap then tilted her head towards him.
"Well, it's kind of a long story."
"How about the cliff's notes version?"Jeannie smiled.
"Okay. I guess you could say that Mike inspired me. At the time when the idea first appealed to me, I was still undecided whether I wanted to become a cop, a lawyer or a teacher. My father was always against the idea of me taking up law enforcement. He said that I was too smart to go wasting my life on some good for nothing, dead end job. He told me that the life of a cop was like having no life at all. Anyway, I don't really know what drove me to decide when the time came. Sometimes I wonder if a part of me made my choice out of anger for my father's ignorance. It's strange because I always idealized him throughout my childhood until just before I reached senior year. I remembered I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Successful, happy, married, you name it. But you know what? My father never gave me the time of day. He was always too busy to take me out to see a game or even to go out on a fishing trip. He was either out on some business trip interstate or playing golf. Mom tried to get him to pay more attention to me but the arguments were just not worth the emotional stress and eventually she just accepted it." Steve paused to swallow as the memories came flooding through him. "I came to realize that Mike spent more time with me than my father ever did. He took me to see the ball games and he took me fishing. It was ironic because in reality it was my father's career that took over his life, not Mike's. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to become just like Mike and the more rebellious I became towards my father. He blamed Mike when I told him I was going to be a cop. It's been years since they last spoke to each other."
"I'm sorry." Jeannie said quietly as she turned to face him squarely and took his hands in hers.
"It's all in the past now. I have no regrets over my decision. Being a cop has opened up my eyes to the world. Whether or not I'll be a cop for the rest of my life, I don't know. Right now, this is where I belong. It's where I want to be." Steve finished his reminiscing with a smile as he looked into Jeannie's startling blue eyes and gave her small hands a squeeze.
A knock on the front door startled the two young companions and both swivelled their heads in the direction of the noise. The knocking grew more urgent and louder.
"Wait here." Steve instructed then let go of Jeannie's hand and made his way out of the kitchen toward the front door.
Jeannie tentatively wondered out into the hall, watching Steve's retreating back. Goosebumps formed along the length of her arms and she rubbed at them with subconscious awareness.
Residence of Mike Stone, 1973
Sitting in the recliner in the darkening room, Larson drummed his restless fingers on the arm rests. He looked at the clock high up on the wall ahead of him and breathed out heavily. The hour and minute hands had crawled in a semi arc down the face of the clock in almost unseen movements as the seconds ticked away like a time bomb. Where the hell are they? Patience was not a virtue Larson ever had nor would he try to embrace it. The longer he waited, the more his impatience grated at his nerves until beads of glistening sweat broke out along his hair line. As the moisture began to accumulate he could feel the droplets running down his stubbled face. When finally the waiting proved beyond unbearable, Larson shot to his feet and wiped the perspiration from his face with is hands before rubbing his fingers on his shirt to remove the residue that covered them. Breathing rapidly in vexation, he paced the perimeter of the living room until his brown eyes fell on the telephone which lay on the floor beside the table. He bent down, picked up the phone and the receiver then placed it back on top of the table. An idea formed in his mind and he quickly acted upon it. Shoving his hand in his shirt pocket, he withdrew the small red book and rifled through the pages until he found what he was seeking. Holding the page down between his thumb and fingers, he snatched up the receiver of the telephone and dialled the number written on the page beside the name, Steve.
Residence of Steve Keller, 1973
When Steve Keller reached his front door, he drew back the lock slowly then placed one hand firmly on the door to allow him to slam it shut should he need to. Bracing himself, he pulled it open slowly.
Jeannie Stone's curiosity got the better of her and she found herself creeping down the hall towards the front door. She gasped as she passed the living room and heard the phone ring. In between the urgent ringing, she could hear Steve's voice faintly in the background talking to someone at the door. It didn't sound like trouble was at his doorstep and figuring that Mike was probably calling, Jeannie wandered into the living room and picked up the telephone. The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry if no one answered.
"Hello?" Jeannie spoke into the mouthpiece. When no reply issued she repeated herself. She knew someone was on the other line for she could hear the sound of breathing against the mouthpiece.
"Is this Jeannie Stone?" The voice finally asked.
"Who-may I ask who this is?" Jeannie's heart began to pound a faster rhythm as she tried to make out who the person was. Was it someone she knew but couldn't recall?
"This is Officer Wilkins. I need to speak with Miss Stone. It's about her father, Lieutenant Mike Stone. He's taken a fatal gunshot wound and I need to locate his daughter." The unfamiliar voice of a man on the other line froze Jeannie on the spot as she gripped the receiver tightly for fearing of dropping it. "Miss, are you there?"
"Y-yes. I'm Jeannie Stone. You said my father was…was shot?" Even as the words left her mouth and she heard them spoken, Jeannie could not feel her lips as numbness overtook all the feeling she had in her body. Her chest tightened and each breath was agonizingly hard to take. She stood rooted to the spot.
Steve rolled his eyes and shook his head as he tried to rid the salesman from his front porch. He distinctly thought he heard the telephone ringing in the background and decided enough was enough. He dismissed the man one last time then closed the door on the salesman's annoyed face before locking it. The phone had stopped ringing and as he strained his ears he could hear Jeannie's voice nearby. Panic entered through his system and he cursed under his breath as he raced to the living room and saw the young girl holding the phone tightly in her hand, her face deathly pale and her eyes wide with shock. Not wasting another second, Steve leaped forward and pried the phone receiver away from her. Placing it to his ear he listened for the voice of the caller on the other line.
Residence of Mike Stone, 1973
Larson felt satisfaction settling in the pit of his stomach hearing the fear and panic in the girl's voice. He licked his lips after a short pause before continuing, "Are you alone, Jeannie? I can come by and pick you up. I'll take you to him."
"Who are you? Is that you Larson? Every cop in the district is out there looking for you! So why don't you just turn yourself in?" A man's voice emanated from the ear piece and Larson's blood began to boil once more. He slammed down the receiver hard then yanked the cord out out of the wall socket before hurling the phone across the room.
Breathing heavily, Larson looked down at the page in the address book and memorised the street name and number of the house then he stowed the book away. Retrieving his jacket from the back of the recliner, he left the house and began to devise a way to get to Jeannie Stone as fast as he can. First he needed a set of wheels. Easy.
Residence of Steve Keller, 1973
Steve listened until the line went dead then he carefully replaced the receiver. He reached forward and took Jeannie by the shoulders. "Jeannie, did you know who that was?"
"He said he was Officer Wilkins. He told me that Mike was shot! Oh God Steve! That's why he isn't back yet!" The hysteria had taken hold over Jeannie as she clung to Steve's arms and began to hyperventilate.
"Easy Jeannie, easy. Look at me. Look at me! Now, I'm willing to bet my badge that was Cain Larson on the other line. He was trying to scare you into telling him where you are! Just calm down. I'll call the office and get a hold of Mike. He told me he was waiting for some calls so how can he be shot down? Think about it Jeannie. It's not possible." Steve held Jeannie's gaze until she relaxed in his grip and nodded. After he released her, Jeannie wiped the tears that streaked her face as Steve picked up the phone and dialled the direct line to his partner's office. The phone rang out and he tried again. No answer. Alarm bells began to ring in his mind. Hanging up, he dialled Captain Rudy Olsen's number.
"Olsen, SFPD."
"Rudy, is Mike around? I can't reach him on his private line."
"No, he left about a half hour ago. He said he was calling it a night. Is everything alright?" Rudy asked as he could hear the seriousness in the Inspector's voice.
"No. Someone just called and Jeannie got to the phone before I could. The caller identified himself as Officer Wilkins and told her Mike was shot."
"What? Wilkins was transferred to LAPD four years ago. You don't suppose the caller was Larson do you?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact I'm positive." Steve affirmed his suspicions.
"Have you tried calling his home?" The SFPD Captain asked with growing concern for the well-being of his Lieutenant.
"No, I'll do that now." Steve replied then ended the call and dialled Mike's number. No dial tone. Nothing. A dead line. Steve turned away from Jeannie to keep the worry etched on his face concealed from her. He dialled Rudy's number again.
"Rudy, can a couple of the guys drive over to Mike's? I can't reach him. Something's wrong with the phone." Steve tried to keep his tone indifferent to protect Jeannie from hearing the panic that crept into his voice, while at the same time he also needed Rudy to know that he believed Mike could be facing dangers they hadn't anticipated.
Sensing something was wrong and that Steve was not in the position to discuss it with Jeannie around, Olsen read the hidden meaning, loud and clear. He had tried to get contact Mike after the first phone call from Steve but the Lieutenant was not responding to his car radio. Feeling slightly edgy himself, Olsen replied, "I'll send for a back-up team over to Mike's right away and I'll also send out a dispatch to all units. He wasn't answering his radio."
"Thanks." Steve hung up and stepped up to Jeannie. He wrapped his arms around her and held her trembling form. "Everything's going to be okay."
"Where is he, Steve?" Jeannie cry was muffled against his shirt.
"He's on the road. The guys are sending a dispatch to locate him."
"You mean they don't know where he is? Did they try to radio him?"
"He's not responding."
"Steve, we gotta go find him! He could be hurt or in trouble!" Jeannie pleaded as she pulled out of Steve's arms and looked him in the eye.
"No, we can't go out there. That could be exactly what Larson wants. I gave my word to Mike I would keep you safe and I intend to do just that. I know it's hard but we have to sit tight and wait. There's a back-up team on their way over to Mike's right now." Steve could see the fretfulness written on Jeannie's face as he told her the fate of her father was out of their hands. A sense of hopelessness cascaded over him and he felt like his hands were tied behind his back. He knew he could get to Mike's quicker than back-up could but to do that would place Jeannie's life in harm's way. There was no way he would leave her at his place all alone and taking her with him was out of the question. Faced with the only option available, Steve sighed in resignation and perched himself on the arm of the sofa as his eyes followed Jeannie's pacing of his living room floor.