Chapter 10
The waitress set the bottle of beer and the tall empty glass on the dark wood tabletop in front of the handsome, tired-looking young man with the tousled brown hair and turned to the stocky, dark-haired, slightly older one sitting opposite him.
"Here you go, keep the change," the older one said, handing her a ten-dollar bill with a smile and a nod.
Stretching his shoulders and tilting his head back and forth to work out the kinks, Steve Keller looked across the table. "Thanks, Bob," he mumbled as the waitress walked away, giving the younger man an approving backwards glance. "I can use this right about now."
"Yeah, you look it," Bob Wilson chuckled with a mirthless smile, taking a sip from his own bottle. "Helluva day, hunh? How's Mike doing?"
Pushing the glass aside, Steve picked up the bottle and took a long draft. Swallowing, he looked across the table and cocked his head. "He's doing okay. Jeannie – ah, his daughter – she flew in tonight and got to spend some time with him. But he still doesn't remember anything about last night… and he still doesn't know anything about Irene."
He looked at Wilson from under hooded brows and the older man sighed heavily. "Damn, that's gonna be rough," he commiserated, shaking his head sadly.
"Tell me about it. So, is Irene still refusing to see anyone?"
Wilson looked up and nodded. "She talked to me, but she doesn't want to see anybody else. She's, ah, she's pretty messed up."
Steve nodded slowly, his eyes on the bottle on the table before him. "Look, Bob, I really need to get home. I've been up since about four and it's been a helluva day, like you said. I gotta get some sleep 'cause I want to be back at the hospital tomorrow morning in case Mike starts remembering… I, ah, I want to be there for him, you know… I want to be the one to tell him…"
Wilson stared at his colleague and his furrowed brow eased slightly, a tiny empathetic smile slowly appearing. "Partners, hunh?" he said eventually, with a tiny sad chuckle, "What would we do, or be, without them, right?"
With a sad snort, Steve looked down at the table and blinked quickly several times. "Yeah," he said softly.
The silence lengthened between them, then Steve looked up and cleared his throat. "So, ah, so what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
As if being pulled back to the present, Wilson shifted in the chair, leaning forward and wrapping both hands around his beer bottle.
"I'm, ah, I'm assuming that you want to be in on the investigation into what went down last night… am I right?"
Eyebrows on the rise, Steve leaned forward as well, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. He nodded.
"Well, I went to see Captain Clarke today. We, ah, we had a rather interesting little talk." Wilson hesitated for a beat, glancing away then back. "He told me we couldn't be official members of the investigative team, but there was an avenue of, ah, inquiry that he thought maybe we could… pursue."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he couldn't say much, at least not outright, but he made a lot of allusions. I got the impression that there was a lot he couldn't say – I don't know why – but it seemed he was trying to push me in a direction that… I don't know… I just got the feeling that he was trying to tell me that this was a direction that his men weren't allowed to go in… if you catch my drift."
"What, you mean that they've been told officially not to go there?"
Wilson shrugged. "Something like that. It's, ah, it's just a feeling, Steve, nothing I can point to specifically, but you know when someone's trying to tell you something without actually saying it? Well, that's the feeling I got from Clarke, if you know what I mean."
Steve nodded, frowning. "So, ah, what direction did he tell you to go in?"
"Well, he gave me the name of some woman he wants me –" He looked up, raising his eyebrows, "us – to go see. I have no idea who this woman is, but I'm assuming that it will all become obvious to us when we meet with her." He smiled mirthlessly at the young inspector. "So… you wanna go in with me on this?"
Steve, who had been peeling the label off the beer bottle with his thumb while he listened, nodded slowly. "Yeah, I do." He looked up and inclined his head. "But not until Mike knows about Irene. I don't know how long that's going to take, but I want to be there for him, until he… I don't know, until he doesn't need me anymore," he finished quietly, his gaze now back on the bottle.
Wilson snorted and dropped his head. When he finally spoke, his voice was shaky and his eyes were bright. "Take all the time you need…" He drained the last of his beer. "Listen, ah, I'll hold off on this for a day or so, play it by ear. I want to make sure Irene is coming along too before I take off on her, so –"
"Oh, speaking of which," Steve cut him off, "um, I've asked Jeannie – Mike's daughter – to stop by the General tomorrow morning to see if Irene'll talk to her…"
As Wilson leaned closer, Steve explained the reasoning behind his suggestion. Irene's partner listened and nodded.
Eventually they each ordered another beer and sat together for awhile longer, talking about their partners and how all their lives had changed in the past twenty-four hours. It felt good to unburden; it was well after midnight before they went their respective ways, hoping that things would be better in the morning, for everyone.
# # # # #
She glanced at her watch as she tried to stay out of everyone's way near the elevators. Jeannie had been waiting near the nurse's station on the fourth floor of San Francisco General for almost twenty minutes now.
She was trying not to fidget. When Steve had dropped her off almost an hour ago, she had asked at the front desk to see Dr. Carlysle. Instructed to go up to the fourth floor, she had managed to meet briefly with the busy physician, handing him a note that Steve had given her for him. After she explained why she was there, he read the note with a grim formality.
Finished, he carefully folded the paper back up and returned it to her without a word. He hesitated for several seconds, looking at her, then his frown dissipated and he smiled gently. "You might be just what she needs right now. She's been so withdrawn and incommunicative that I'm really beginning to worry. Listen, give me a few minutes to go talk to her and I'll let you know, okay?"
Relieved, Jeannie had bestowed her best Stone grin upon him, nodding. "Thank you so much, Dr. Carlysle. I'm not sure if I can help her, but at least it'll be woman to woman, right?"
His ironic smile got a little wider and he shook his head sadly. "I'm, ah, I'm so sorry about the baby. I, ah, I think that's what's bothering her the most. That and her worry about your father."
Jeannie's smile quickly vanished and she nodded grimly. "Thank you. My, ah, my dad still doesn't know; his memory hasn't returned yet."
Carlysle's hand shot out and he gripped her forearm in sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that, Ms. Stone. This must be very difficult for all of you. You have my best wishes for a speedy and, um, a very healing recovery for your dad, in every way."
"Thank you," she said sincerely, appreciating his genuine concern.
"Look, ah," he said quickly, removing his hand, "I'll go talk to Ms. Martin and see if she's agreeable to having you visit."
"Thank you," Jeannie said again as he started away.
That was twenty minutes ago and she was still waiting. Finally, a nurse she hadn't seen before approached her. "Ms. Stone?"
"Yes?"
"Dr. Carlysle apologizes, there was an emergency and he had to go to another floor, but he asked me to let you know that Ms. Martin has asked to see you. If you'll just follow me, please." Without waiting for a reply, the nurse turned and started off down the corridor on their right.
Jeannie jogged quickly to catch up, then followed slightly behind, trying not to look in the open wardroom doors as she passed. After a couple of turns down identical corridors, the nurse stopped in front of a closed door and turned to the young woman behind her. "Ms. Martin is in here," she announced with a genial formality then turned and continued down the corridor at a brisk clip.
Suddenly at a loss for what to do, Jeannie hesitated, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then knocked softly on the wooden door. There was only silence. She raised her hand again then hesitated before knocking a second time, a little louder. After a long beat, a shaky but familiar voice called out, "Come in!"
Jeannie closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, plastered a hopefully sympathetic grin on her face and pushed the door open.
# # # # #
Steve stepped off the elevators and started towards the ICU unit. He glanced at his watch. He knew Mike was scheduled for another CT scan this morning but he had forgotten what time.
It was close to one a.m. before he had finally fallen into bed, exhausted physically and mentally from the very stressful and worrying day. He had dropped off to sleep almost immediately, still in his clothes, but not before he had set his alarm for seven. He knew he would need a shower, shave and a decent breakfast before picking Jeannie up and taking her to the General. It would do no-one, especially Mike, any good if he let his own health and well-being suffer, and he had been tired long before all of this started.
Chances are it was going to be another emotionally and physically taxing day. And in a purely selfish way he was not looking forward to it. But he would be there for Mike, no matter what it took, no matter what he had to do; the most important person in his life right now was going to need him in ways neither of them was aware of yet. He hoped he was up to the task.
He had just stepped through the doors when a nurse he recognized from yesterday looked up from her seat behind the station and called out, "Inspector Keller, oh my god, we've been trying to get a hold of you!"
Steve slid to a stop, his heart jumping into his throat. "Mike -?"
She quickly crossed around the large desk and approached him, cutting him off and speaking rapidly. "He's supposed to be getting a CT scan done right now, but about a half hour ago he started getting agitated and asking for you. I think he's starting to remember what happened."
Steve's eyes were snapping back and forth from the nurse's face to the closed door of Mike's ICU cubicle. As he took a rapid step in that direction, she called after him, "Dr. Murphy is with him."
Without bothering to knock, Steve pushed the wooden door opened and almost flew into the room. He could see the neurologist leaning over the bed. "We're trying to find him, Lieutenant, and as soon as we do –"
"I'm here, Mike," Steve called from the door and the doctor straightened up and turned toward him, his concerned features relaxing at the sight of the young cop crossing toward the bed.
Murphy took a step back and Steve's gaze fell on the fear and pain filled face of his partner. Mike reached out with his left hand as Steve got to the bed and grabbed the younger man's arm. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were wide. "I remember, Steve," he mumbled, his words slightly and frighteningly slurred. "I remember." He sounded devastated.
Murphy touched Steve's arm as he stepped closer and whispered sotto voce, "You do what you have to do. The CT scan can wait." Then he moved silently to the door and exited.
Mike's hand tightened on his arm as he pulled the stool beside the bed and sat, leaning close. The older man's stare never left his face as he struggled to control the pain and the dread.
Slowly and deliberately, Steve took Mike's left hand in both of his and stared into his eyes. Then very gently and quietly he said, "Tell me what you remember."
