"I don't know how many ways I can put this, Steve. We don't have anything," O'Brien said again. As much as he liked and respected the young cop, he was beginning to lose his patience.
"You know as well as I do that if we don't have any proof - one hundred percent irrefutable solid proof - we can't do anything. And you've admitted yourself that you can't give me that proof."
They were seated in Olsen's office, the Chief and Devitt silent spectators as the D.A. and the cop battled it out once again.
Steve wasn't about to back down. "Gerry -"
"Steve, enough," O'Brien cut him off. "I'm on your side in this, god knows, but as the D.A. I can't do anything legally - and I won't do anything illegally - with this. We're just going to have to live with it - unless you guys," he included the others in the room, "come up with something.
"That's it. End of argument." He took a deep breath and settled himself.
"Now I have to get back to work - there are a lot of other cases on my desk right now." He rose to leave.
Devitt got up from where he was perched on the edge of Olsen's desk and opened the door. O'Brien turned in the doorway.
"Steve, I'm sorry. I wish I could be of more help…"
When there was no response, he turned and left the room. Devitt closed the door behind him , then resumed his position on the desk.
When no one said anything, Olsen ventured, "You know, Steve, he's right."
Steve's eventual nod was reluctant. "I know," he admitted. "I guess I was just hoping."
"What, that he'd break the law? You can't ask him to do that."
"I know. I'd just…damn it…I know that's Mike's ring. I know it."
"Yes, but knowing it and proving it are two different things - you know that too. Hell, even Jeannie can't say for certain it's her father's ring.
"If there was a design or an inscription, of course, but it's just a plain gold band."
I know." Steve's left hand trailed down to his pants pocket and he could feel the ring through the material.
"Well, for what it's worth," chimed in Devitt, "we're gonna go back over everybody in Cassidy's circle once more, with fresh eyes, to see if we overlooked anything.
"But to be honest, Steve, maybe somebody in Cassidy's outfit knew Mike wore a plain gold band and he just pulled that little stunt to piss you off."
"Well, he succeeded in doing that, that's for sure," Steve agreed ruefully.
"So," said Olsen, "what are you going to do?"
Steve looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"I know everything's still fresh and raw right now, but we really need you back at work. We've been two men down for a long time now and we've got to get back to full strength."
Steve looked at Devitt.
"I'm gonna be stepping in temporarily to take over Mike's job - for a few weeks anyway or until … Well, we'll cross that bridge… Anyway, I need to know - are you back on duty or do you need more time?"
"Ah, no, no," Steve shook his head, suddenly finding himself having to make a decision on the spot. "Uhm, yeah, I want to get back to work."
"What's Jeannie going to do, do you know?" Olsen asked gently.
Steve shrugged. He realized he had not talked to Mike's daughter about the future - it just seemed too painful at the time. But now, that future was here.
"I'll talk to her. Uhm, look, can I have till Monday? I gotta get some things straightened out."
Olsen nodded. "Sure, Monday's fine."
# # # #
"Thanks for doing this. You didn't have to, you know."
The wind from the open window was blowing her short hair around but the breeze was nice and she knew that all too soon she would be back in the deserts heat.
Steve glanced at her, but she couldn't see his eyes through the dark glasses.
"I couldn't just drop you off at the bus station, now could I? What would Mike say?"
This brought a wistful smile to her lips but her eyes still bore a melancholy sadness that he knew may never go away.
Jeannie had decided to go back to school - to finish out the year at least. There really was nothing she could do in San Francisco, and completing her year would at least occupy her mind and body for awhile. The less time she had to sit and think about the enormity of her loss, the better.
She stared soberly at her father's partner for several seconds.
"You still believe he's alive, don't you?" she asked gently.
Steve glanced at her before answering. "I have to. Right now it's the only way I can keep going."
He was holding the steering wheel with his right hand, and she reached out and laid her hand lightly on top of his and squeezed. He turned to her and grinned.
And she marvelled once more at the poise and character of this remarkable young man, forever grateful that he had found a way into her father's life and subsequently her own.
She squeezed his hand again before letting it go, then turned to look out the window, hoping the wind in her face would explain her suddenly moist eyes.
# # # #
They said their goodbyes in front of her apartment in Tucson, promising to keep in touch with weekly phone calls. Then he hit the road again, wanting to get back to the city as soon as possible. He knew, like Jeannie, that keeping busy would help to salve the open wound with which he now lived.
In a straight stretch of highway through the desert between Tucson and Phoenix, he turned on the radio and played with the tuning knob to find a station.
Suddenly, the familiar first notes of a pop song blared from the Porsche's speakers, and immediately and unexpectedly Steve Keller's eyes filled with tears and he quickly pulled the car to the shoulder and stopped.
And for the next several minutes, he sat behind the wheel and cried uncontrollably as the sounds of The Carpenter's "Close to You" filled the desert air.
# # # #The Homicide Bureau fell into a new normality with Devitt at the helm. And while Steve wasn't partnered with anyone in particular, he worked with the Captain more than anyone else.
He hadn't attended the sentencing hearing for Cassidy, not trusting himself. Everyone agreed.
But other than Jeannie and Steve, the entire team was there, and Devitt and the four sergeants stopped by Homicide afterwards to deliver the news - twenty-five years to life without the possibility of parole for twenty years. It was a good sentence and everyone was satisfied - and Steve silently vowed that he would be at the prison entrance in twenty years with a gun.
The four sergeants bade Steve goodbye, vowing to keep in touch and wishing him well. An emotional Ianello swallowed him in a fierce bear hug before his bemused partner could drag him from the room.
Steve would be eternally grateful to these four men for their professional commitment and diligence, and their personal support. He'd miss having them around.
And while Steve kept in touch with Driscoll as well, even meeting for a beer or two occasionally to catch a ballgame on a bar TV, it was just never the same for Steve. The hole in his soul felt like it was never going to heal.
The days and weeks wore on - Jeannie and Steve spoke weekly - but as time passed, their calls became shorter and shorter. They always ended the same way though - with Steve telling her he would bring her father home and she telling him that she knew.
But it was getting harder and harder to believe those words.
# # # #
As spring turned into summer, a new routine had settled in, and a few surprises. Devitt was having a good time back in the field, and was toying with the idea of making the move permanent. He'd even started using Mike's office, though the name on the door stayed the same.
Jeannie had decided to spend the summer in Tucson, and was actively looking for a job or placement. Staying alone in the Potrero house for the summer was not something she wanted to do, and Steve understood completely.
Towards the end of June, Captain Olsen and his wife threw a party at their home for two patrolmen who had recently earned their shields. Everyone in Homicide attended. There was a lavish spread and an open bar - and a good time was had by all.
Steve had long ago stopped being the centre of everyone's attention because of the trial and Mike's disappearance - time has a way of soothing the sharpest sting. And he was grateful to become just one of the guys again.
He'd had a few beers and was feeling no pain when he sought refuge in the quiet behind the Olsen's garage. He sat on the ground with his back against the wall and fished out his pack of cigarettes. He was just lighting his first when someone plopped down on the grass beside him.
"I thought I might find out here," a voice said lightly.
Steve finished lighting the cigarette before he turned to face the speaker. When he did, his eyebrows shot up and he couldn't resist a chuckle. "Danny, Jesus Christ, I didn't see you tonight. When did you get here?"
Inspector Dan Segal snorted. "I sort of snuck in about an hour ago. I'm keeping a low profile, so to speak."
"You still underground?" Steve asked, offering a cigarette.
"No, no, I decided to, shall we say, 'come in from the cold' a month or so ago. But they're 're-introducing' me back into the fold a bit at a time. I'm on the fast track for a gold shield, so they tell me, but it's still gonna take a little time, so we'll see."
He had taken a smoke and now Steve lit it for him. As Segal took the first big drag, Steve raised his beer bottle in a salute. "Well, congratulations - nobody deserves a gold shield more, man."
They clinked bottles. "Thank you," said Segal sincerely, with a nod, then waited a few seconds before continuing. "Ah, listen, Steve, there's a reason I sought you out tonight." He paused and took another drag, holding the smoke in for a long moment, looking at the grass between his feet.
"One of the reasons I decided to get out when I did … well, I was under, of course, when Mike…" He glanced quickly at Steve and was relieved to see only a knowing nod.
"Steve, I tried my best to find out anything I could. I asked questions I shouldn't have, I went to people I shouldn't have been anywhere near… I thought, maybe if I could find that one thing, that one clue…" he trailed off.
He could feel Steve's eyes on him but he couldn't meet the stare.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, hanging his head.
There was a long silence as Steve continued to stare at the man beside him. Then, "Danny, look at me."
Segal reluctantly looked up. "Thanks, man," Steve said earnestly. "I mean that…you have no idea how much that means to me. You have no idea, really."
Segal nodded, grateful for the appreciation. "Thanks. I mean, ah, you're welcome." He swallowed hard. "I owe Mike a lot, you know. He's the one that really believed in me, even after all that crap with my brother… Mike knew me better than I knew myself. I coulda so easily took that screwed-up path my brother did but Mike made sure I didn't - and on my own terms. He took a chance, you know?"
"Oh, I know," said Steve with a smile and a nod. "He took a chance on me too."
"Really?" Segal's eyebrows approached his hairline. "You were a screw-up too?" he asked with feigned innocence.
Steve gave Segal a double-take and a slow burn. Segal laughed and Steve quickly followed, holding up his bottle in a 'touche' move.
When the laughter subsided, Segal again turned to his colleague. "So what's it been like?"
Steve looked at him quizzically but Segal's sober expression asked the question again.
Steve took a long drag on his cigarette and leaned the back of his head against the wall. He blew a long steady stream of blue smoke into the air before answering.
"It's numbing. It's like I'm just walking around in a fog all the time. My life is on hold right now and I don't know for how long.
"The hardest part is the hope," he said slowly. "I keep hoping that one day he'll walk through the squad room door just like nothing ever happened, and we'll jump into the car and head out somewhere and everything will be just as it was…" He took a swig from his beer.
"That's my hope," he said quietly. "My reality…well, that's another thing altogether." He started working the bottle label with his thumbnail.
"My reality right now is that I can bring his body home for his daughter."
Segal had been watching Steve quietly as he spoke. Now he asked gently, "So you think he's dead?"
Steve didn't react at first and Segal was uncertain he had heard the question. When Steve finally spoke, it was with a slight twinkle in his eyes and a wistful smile on his lips.
"I used to think Mike and I were connected - you know, not like twins are supposed to be but sometimes I could read him like a book. That's what I miss most, I guess. We could be at opposite sides of a room and make eye contact and I would know exactly what he was thinking. I'm sure he could do the same.
"There was something weirdly comforting in that…I miss it…" He took one final pull from his cigarette and stubbed it out on the grass beside him.
"I always thought that I would feel him die," he said, staring at the butt, "and I haven't felt anything. Maybe that's why a part of me still thinks he'd out there somewhere."