John walked slowly through the main entrance of his apartment building. He made his way slowly past A-3, and thought it unusual that Mr. Linton's door was tightly shut. He only did that if he was at the market, or on the occasional errand. Deciding to check on him later, John walked toward the stairs and made his way carefully up each one, still guarding his throbbing side, which was beginning to match the drumming in his head.

He slid his key into the lock, and momentarily rested his head on the door. He dreaded the upheaval he knew he would find on the other side of the door. He vaguely remembered how trashed the condition his apartment had been in when he had been taken out on a gurney. He remembered how he and Jim fought for their lives. He drew in a shaky breath, knowing he would try to handle what he could, as he could. He fought with the memories of what happened that day, the struggling with being unable to help his friend, Jim Reed.

He slowly opened the door, and slid his hand along the wall, feeling for the light switch. After clicking on the light, Johnny stepped into the room, looked around, and was transfixed by what he saw.

As he scanned the room, Everything was neat and tidy. His coffee table was no longer overturned, his furniture was in its proper place, kitchen cleaned, and all remnants of the fight were gone. John stood there in awe. Suddenly, he sensed someone behind him.

"Hey, Junior. I figured you were here." Roy was standing in the doorway. Johnny spun around to the familiar voice, but a little too quickly, losing his balance a bit. Roy quickly stepped up and took his arm and led him to the chair.

"You okay, Johnny? Here, sit down. You shoulda stayed a bit longer at Rampart. Dixie told me you decided to leave A.M.A." Roy went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water for his friend.

"M-Okay. Jus' couldn't stay there anymore." Johnny put his head back on the chair and closed his eyes waiting for the room to quit spinning.

"You did all this, didn't you. I-I don't know how to thank…"

"Hey, that's what brothers are for. Your fridge is stocked, and there's a couple of JoAnne's casseroles in the freezer." Roy interrupted, and gave his friend a slight, reassuring grin.

Johnny swiped the back of his hand over his eyes to clear away the emotion from the corner of his eyes, hoping Roy wouldn't notice, but he did. Roy sat back on the couch, hoping to give his partner a chance to collect himself. He knew how much this was upsetting him. Roy was hoping John would take the opportunity of this time they had with no interruptions to let Roy be the sounding board for his best friend. After a few minutes, Johnny obliged.

E*E*E*E*E

Linda sat in her darkened livingroom, curled up in the corner chair. An empty liquor bottle lay at her feet, and black streaks of mascara stained her sleep deprived face. The papers given to her at the attorney's office were also strewn around the floor, intermingled with used tissues. The phone at her elbow sat quiet for now, but she had practically worn the numbers off the dial by her trying to reach Joe Miller countless times. She debated about driving to his apartment, but had remembered him telling her not to come there, as he wanted them to be careful about his neighbors talking. She considered going back to the station, but he warned her about embarrassing him there as well. She was becoming desperate. She had to talk to him.

Leaning against the convertible in the parking lot, Joe Miller crushed the embers of his fourth cigarette with the tip of his shoe. He no longer knew the meaning of a good nights' sleep. He didn't answer the phone at his apartment anymore, as it was usually Linda Jennings and her relentless whining. He had planned it all perfectly, but it was beginning to crumble. It should have been easy. Seduce Linda, get her to sign some assets over to him, get the money, and then move on. He had done it before without a hitch. He wasn't expecting all these complications. Why wouldn't Gage go away, or better yet, just die? Detective Miller could no longer trust others to take care of this – he was going to have to do this himself.

As for Linda, she was no longer useful. She was becoming a huge liability now…

E*E*E*E*E

John eased himself up from the chair, opened the door and glanced down the hall. He looked at his watch, closed the door, and sat back down with a pronounced sigh.

"Sick of me already, Junior?" Roy joked. Johnny looked at his watch again. "Hellllloooo, earth to Johnny. What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Sorry. It's just that Charlie, er, ah, Mr. Linton usually checks in with me during the day, especially after he's been out. I'm just wondering if I should go check on him, especially since I've been away for a couple days. His door was closed when I went by, and he usually leaves it open if he's home or awake." John ran his fingers nervously through his hair, and Roy sensed John's concern for his friend.

"Why don't we go down and check on him? Do you have a key?" John was already up and getting a key from the drawer in the kitchen. With the key in hand, the men headed down to apartment A-3.

John knocked repeatedly on the door marked "A-3" with no response.

"Mr. Linton? It's John." He waited. "Charlie? Just checkin' on ya…you in there?" He knocked again, a little harder this time. A young voice in the buildings' doorway spoke.

"You lookin' for ol' Mr. Linton?"

"Oh, hey Billy." John greeted young Billy Scolari from C-4 leaning on his bike in the hall, making his way outside. "Have you seen 'im?"

"No, not for a coupla days. Kinda weird, too. He usually yells at me fer draggin' my bike in the hall, or slammin' the door a few times a day. Hasn't yelled at me in over two days." Billy shrugged as he looked at the closed door. "Maybe he's away or somthin'. Well, see ya." Billy turned and dragged his bike the rest of the way out of the building, and rode off.

Johnny looked at Roy with a bit of panic, and shakily tried to put the key in the lock. Roy took the key from him and slid it in the lock, and turned it. Opening the door, they were hit with the smell of a dead Charles Linton.

Knowing what had to be done, Johnny slowly approached the stilled man to whom he had become attached, and reached carefully to that place on Charlie Linton's neck for his pulse, and grasped his wrist instinctively at the same time, already knowing that it wouldn't be there. Johnny closed his eyes in sadness and offered a silent prayer for this old man who had no one to mourn his passing. He reached for the tattered afghan on the back of the chair and graciously covered his elderly friend while Roy finished up on the phone in the kitchen with the police. Johnny gently patted Charlie Linton's arm.

"You can rest now, my friend." Johnny whispered. He slowly stood up, as Roy joined his partner.

"You okay?" Roy asked his friend. John barely nodded. Roy continued. "We should probably wait outside for them to get here. With the way this apartment looks, we shouldn't touch anything." Johnny and Roy stepped around the papers and overturned and broken items that were tossed around the tiny apartment, and pulled the door almost closed when they stepped out to wait for the police.

Johnny leaned heavily against the far wall of the hallway holding his side, and was once again reminded of the throbbing in his head. John blew out a breath to help regulate the pain that was building in his body, which didn't go un-noticed by Roy. Roy led John to the stairs to make him sit. Surprisingly, there was no protesting.

John dropped his head into his hands. He had had enough. Enough death. Enough of his friends being hurt. Enough of Miller. He was going to find a way to stop him.

E*E*E*E*E

Joe Miller's anger was evident in his demeanor as he stormed into Linda Jennings house and slammed the door with enough force to shake the ornate mirror from the wall and onto the floor, shattering it into countless jagged pieces. The non-stop phone calls and messages he received both at home and at the station had reached an embarrassing level, and had caught the attention of his co-workers and his superiors. Linda was still sitting in the same chair, only having vacated it to replace her empty bottle of liquor with a new, stronger one. About a third of the way through this one, Linda had abandoned the use of a glass, and was drinking straight from the bottle.

"J-joey! C-commeeeer! Gimmee a k-issss…wann-wannadrink?" Linda slurred, Her speech barely understandable. She tried to stand up to greet Joe, but stumbled and fell into a heap onto the messy floor. She started to laugh at herself, and then dissolved into a fit of hysterical tears. Joe shook his head in disgust. When she talked, her words all ran together.

"Izzzalllgone…allofit..the m- money….can't get the insurance money…g-gonna shut my lightsssoff….not gonnahave wat-water…'I'm-I'm ovvverdrawnnn…" Linda began flailing her arms around. "The kidsss….hafta go to court for'em…" Linda slumped over on the floor. "Whatzzthe use?"

Joe Miller stood there, saying nothing to help, comfort, or console her. He did, however, see an opportunity. He went to the kitchen, and took a semi-clean glass from the counter, and found a nearly full prescription bottle in the cupboard. Reading the label, he smiled to himself, emptied the contents into his hand, put them in the glass, filled it with some strong liquor, stirred it with his finger until the pills dissolved, and then returned to the livingroom, wearing a different smirk on his face, carrying the concoction.

"Ah, come on now, Linda. It'll be okay. This is only temporary. We can fix this, it's just some red tape with the coroner's office. Tell you what. I'll loan you some money to get you caught up on some things, and I'll talk to someone at the coroner's office, and get things straightened out. Things will be better in no time. Didn't I tell you that I would fix things? Com'on Baby. Here. Let's sit you up." Joe Miller helped a whimpering Linda sit on the couch, as he feigned sympathy for the woman he now had no use for. "There we go. Here. drink this, you'll feel better…that's my girl…drink it all up…" a smile crept eerily into the corners of Joe Millers' mouth.

E*E*E*E*E

After answering the necessary questions the police had asked of him, John had quietly slipped upstairs leaning heavily on the banister for support back to his apartment. Roy was still talking with the officers, and the paramedics and other officials that had been sent to clear the scene.

In the quiet of his apartment, John sat wearily both in body and emotion, onto his couch. Rubbing his temples, He wondered how there would be a resolution to this nightmare. As he leaned he head back onto the couch, he spied the stack of mail sitting on the end table that Roy had left for him, and he began to thumb through it. A certain letter with familiar handwriting caught his eye, sending a chill down his spine. He pulled it from the pile and stared at the envelope, starting to shake. Carefully, he opened it, and slid out the letter and hesitantly unfolded it.

John-

Well, I guess if you're reading this, I'm not around anymore. I know, creepy. I left this letter with my attorney to mail to you in case anything happened to me.

First of all, I don't know how to thank you for all you've done for me, Johnny. When we met, when I was in the Police Academy and you were a Rescue Man, I knew we were destined to be friends. You stood beside me on my wedding day, drove us to the hospital when Benjy was born, and thankfully, you and Roy helped bring our Lisa into the world when we didn't give ourselves enough time to get to the hospital, and she decided to make her appearance in the ambulance on the way to the hospital instead. The milestones in my life were better because of a great friend like you, and I can't thank you enough.

I think about the times we fixed things, built things, (and yes, wrecked a few things!) had some great cookouts with Roy and Jo, tried to fix you up with female friends, (I tried buddy, really I did!) and the times you made me sweat it out sitting next to your hospital bed when you were hurt, or those days you stood by Linda and the kids when I was injured a couple years ago. I have thanked God numerous times for the faithful friend I have found in you.

So, with all that said, I have one final favor to ask of you. I have written this letter to tell you that, as you must know by now, I have my suspicions about Joe Miller, a detective in my precinct and Linda.

I discovered six months ago that Linda was having an affair with Joe. I also discovered that Linda had taken a large insurance policy out about 4 months ago on my life in the amount of $250,000.

When you and I went on our camping trip three months ago, I hid a couple tape recorders in the house, and taped some conversations (among other things!) between Joe and Linda, and those tapes revealed different ideas about how to get "rid" of me, and wanting to collect the insurance money.

Johnny, I trust you, and your judgment. If my attorney mailed this letter to you, that means there was some question about my death. Please, PLEASE see to it that my death is investigated. In the envelope with this letter, is a key to a safe deposit box at First Savings and Loan on Manchester and Mariner, and it's Box number 1206. All the evidence I have collected these past several months: Papers and documents from my attorney, pictures from the private detective I hired, the tapes, names of people to contact at the precinct, all of it is in there.

There is also a spare set of keys to the convertible and the title – I want you to have it, Johnny. It would mean a lot to me. It's as much yours as it is mine. You put as much work and sweat into it as I did. Just promise me to tell Benjy all about it one day – make sure he remembers his dad and what I stood for, and what he and Lisa meant to me. Be sure to share the stories with them about how excited I was for them to come into this world, the plans I had, and still have for them – how life can truly be unfair sometimes, but they can rely on the people that truly love them, and that if they work hard, study hard and pray hard, they will go far in life, and that the sky's the limit. No matter where they are or what they decide to do, their daddy will always be with them, and will always love them. can you do that for me, Johnny?

Thanks again, buddy for everything – for being the faithful friend I needed – I only hope that I was half the friend to you that you were to me.

Love you, buddy-

Trent

Johnny's fragile grip on his emotions slipped away as he slid off the couch and onto the floor, letting his back rest against the couch. All his pent up emotion found its escape. Roy entered the apartment as Johnny sat with his face buried in his arms that rested on his drawn up knees, his body shaking. Roy went to his friend, and knelt beside him. Johnny handed him the letter, and Roy read it with care. After finishing the letter, Roy swiped away his own tear, and put an arm around his grieving friend. He knew he needed to let out all that he had pent up over the past few weeks. The stress of losing Trent, the attempts on his life and that of his and Jim Reed's lives, the discovery of Mr. Linton, and now this letter confirming all the evidence against Linda Jennings and Joe Miller. Johnny had kept things just below the surface and needed to let it out. Roy sat with his best friend until he was sullen and quiet.

"I need to go to the bank, Roy. I hafta do this for Trent. Then I'm going to the Precinct. It's over for Miller. I'm gonna see to it." Johnny spoke in a hushed but determined tone.

Johnny pulled himself up off the floor and grabbed his keys off the end table, and with fire in his eyes, he headed out the door…