Thanks for coming along for the ride everybody. Writing a pure procedural was a challenge, and turned out to be a heck of a lot of fun! I hope you agree. And sincerest thanks for all the feedback. Very much appreciated.

As the tan LTD pulled up behind the black-and-white, Mike did up his collar button and tightened his tie. "All right," he said, picking up the warrant from the seat beside him and slipping it into his inside jacket pocket, "let's do this."

Pocketing the keys, Steve got out and slammed his door as Mike did the same. The older man crossed to the passenger side of the patrol car and tapped on the window, then continued across the street to the construction site entrance. Two uniformed officers exited their car and fell into step behind the detectives.

Steve glanced over his shoulder and almost did a double take. His face split into a wide grin. "Officer Johnson, good to see you again."

Smiling proudly, the young cop glanced quickly at the fast-moving lieutenant ahead of him. "Thank you, sir," he said, "you too."

Steve doubled his pace to catch up to his partner, who smiled at him sideways.

"I figured he deserved to be with us when we put the cuffs on the killer," Mike explained with a slight shrug. Steve chuckled and shook his head. "What, you don't agree?"

The head shaking turned into a nod, and Steve reached up to slap the older man on the shoulder.

Displaying their stars and I.D.'s, they approached the security guard. "Would you get Mr. Devereux for us, please?" Mike asked pleasantly, and the guard nodded, taking a step back to speak into a walkie-talkie.

"You know, they're probably gonna make us put on hard hats," Steve whispered as they glanced around the large work site.

"Let's hope Devereux can shut work down for a few minutes and let us get this over with," Mike replied without looking; he was scanning the area for Healey and Lessing, knowing Linden would be close by.

"Here's Devereux," Steve announced quietly, and Mike turned to his right to see the foreman approaching, his hand extended.

"Gentlemen," Devereux said warily as he shook their hands, "so it's, ah, it's over?"

"Yes," Mike said with a curt nod, "we're here to arrest Robert Linden. Can you take us to him, please?"

"Well, ah, we usually require visitors to wear hard hats, but I think we can waive that right now." He glanced at his watch. "Lieutenant, if I might make a suggestion?" On Mike's nod, he continued. "Well, we're close to our lunch break. It's a big site and we use a siren to signal lunch. It's your call, Lieutenant – do you want to arrest him where he's working on site, or as he's exiting for his lunch break?"

Mike didn't have to think about it. "I want to take him where he's working, less chance of him trying to make a break for it."

"Sounds good to me. Just give me a couple of seconds, will ya?" He turned to a man hovering nearby. "John, give us about five minutes to get closer to section 12, then hit the horn." Devereux turned back to Mike. "How does that sound, Lieutenant?"

Mike smiled. "Works for me."

"Good. Well then, gentlemen, follow me." Devereux spun on his heel and headed back into the belly of the building. As they moved across the gravel and mud-filled ground towards the open maw that would become the ornate front door of the massive structure, he volunteered, "Section 12 is on the 10th floor. They're working on the wiring up there today. We'll have to take the elevator up."

He led the four police officers across the almost completed first floor to the construction elevator and they started up. "Sergeant Healey and Inspector Lessing are up there right now. They've pretty well had Linden in their sights all day." He glanced down and shrugged slightly. "Hell, so have I since I got your call. I want that bastard off my site, the sooner the better." He looked up at Mike quickly. "But I don't think he's suspicious."

"Thanks," Mike smiled. "We appreciate all the help. Now let's try to make this as uneventful as possible."

They were just stepping off the elevator when the lunch siren sounded. All around them workers stopped and looked at each other, glancing at their watches, confused, but slowly they set down their tools and started towards the elevator.

Crossing the cement floor towards the skeletonized wall being wired that day, Mike and Steve could see Linden getting up from his knees. He was a brawny, bullet-headed powerhouse, just slightly shorter than Mike. He was staring at the wall, as if taking stock of what still needed to be done, and taking off his work gloves when they approached, standing back a safe distance. Devereux remained several yards behind.

Steve had unsnapped his holster and had his hand on the stock of his .38. From the corner of his eye, he saw Healey and Lessing appear from different directions, keeping their distance. Johnson and his partner McKenna flanked the lieutenant and inspector, effectively forming a semi-circle around the still unaware Linden.

Mike took a couple of steps forward and Steve tensed. Linden seemed to suddenly realize that he was not alone and turned slowly, eyebrows knit. But he didn't seem surprised to see the small cordon of police officers surrounding him.

"Robert Edward Linden, you are under arrest for unlawful discharge of a firearm and involuntary manslaughter, with the option of further charges to be added at a later date," Mike announced formally, keeping his tone steady and even. Only Steve could hear the anger in his words.

Reaching behind himself and slipping the handcuffs from his belt, Mike ordered, "Turn around and put your hands against the wall."

Linden, whose insolent sneer hadn't wavered, chuckled derisively as he started to turn, moving slowly and contemptuously. He raised his arms over his head and slapped them against the drywall, shaking his head and looking down.

Mike snapped open one of the cuffs as he stepped closer to Linden and reached up to grab his right wrist. Twisting his arm down and behind his back, Mike snapped the cuff on and reached for his left wrist.

He was just bringing Linden's left arm down when the electrician made his move. With speed surprising for his size, he pulled his wrist out of Mike's grasp and spun quickly, his elbow up and aimed for Mike's head.

In a split second, Mike was on his hands and knees on the ground and Linden was pushed up against the wall, Johnson and McKenna pinning the larger man flat while the barrel of Steve's .38 pressed into the soft folds of Linden's right cheek just below his eye.

Chuckling slightly, Mike got up, brushing the sawdust from his pants and hands. Not even his hat was out of place. "That's what I love about guys like you, Linden," he said witheringly, "you're so damn predictable."

With Johnson's aid, and Steve backing off slightly but keeping his gun trained on Linden's head, Mike finished snapping the remaining cuff on Linden's now compliant left wrist, tightening it a little more than necessary. He spun the felon around, stared into his defiant eyes, then smiled and took a step back. "Steve, would you do the honors?"

"With pleasure," the inspector said with a smile, holstering his .38 and taking the Miranda card out of his pocket. He took a step closer to Linden and stuck the card in his face. "You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one –"

"Stuff your rights up your ass!" Linden spit out, and Johnson slammed him back into the wall again.

With a half smile, Steve turned to his partner. "I don't think he wants to talk to us," he said in mock solemnity.

"I'm beginning to get that impression, yeah," Mike agreed, nodding and shrugging. "Oh well, we tried."

Steve took a step back and put the card away, as Mike took his place in front of Linden, staring with intense ferocity into the cold brown eyes. "Officer Johnson," he said slightly louder than necessary, and the young patrolman looked at him. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you and your partner to please escort Mr. Linden back to headquarters."

Stepping behind Linden and grabbing him by the elbow, Johnson beamed. "It would be my pleasure, Lieutenant." He propelled the handcuffed man away from the wall and towards the elevator, his partner falling into step behind them.

Steve moved closer to Mike. Grinning and shaking his head, he said through a chuckle, "You know, for an old guy, you still have pretty good reflexes."

"Old guy?! What are you talking about - old guy? He didn't lay a finger on me," Mike protested good-naturedly. "Anyway, all I had to do was duck. I've had plenty of practice over the years, believe me."

They laughed companionably as they started towards the elevator. Steve slid his hand up his partner's back, briefly squeezing his shoulder, both of them relieved that the most dangerous part of their day was over.

# # # # #

"So that one little bullet did all that damage?" Assistant D.A. Gerry O'Brien asked, incredulity in his voice. He was sitting in Steve's desk chair, which had been rolled into Mike's office.

"It sure did," said Mike with a shake of his head. He was at his desk, jacket off and sleeves rolled up, right foot up on the open lower drawer, holding a mug of coffee in both hands. Steve was leaning against the filing cabinet behind him, sipping his own coffee. Tanner was against the other side of the cabinet. Dan Healey straddled the second desk chair, while Lessing and Haseejian supported both sides of the doorframe. The tiny office was crowded.

"Well, how in the hell did Bernie miss that? I mean, come on, a bullet?!" There was disbelief in Tanner's voice, and Mike looked over his shoulder.

Steve glanced at the sergeant and nodded. "Well, like Mike said, it's not hard if you're not looking for it, right? What happened to Bennett was so bizarre that no one's heard of anything like this before."

"So," Healey began, his voice strained and tentative, "the bullet came through the wall and hit him… you know…?"

Mike and Steve exchanged a look and a smirk. They had always known they would have to explain this at some point. Steve chuckled and pushed away from the cabinet, taking a step closer to the desk. "Okay, fellas, brace yourselves," he chuckled slightly and Mike could see the other men tense.

"So, ah," Steve started, choosing his words carefully, "Bennett was lying on the bed watching TV, and we assume from the path of the bullet that he was lying pretty flat with his head propped up by the pillow and his legs at least slightly apart. When the bullet came through the wall, it entered his body through his scrotum," the partners watched in thinly veiled amusement as O'Brien crossed his legs, Healey's hands dropped from the back of the chair to his crotch, and the others shifted uncomfortably where they stood.

Clearing his throat slightly, Steve continued. "The bullet travelled up through his body, destroying his bowels and stomach and then up into his heart where it finally disintegrated."

Getting his fidgeting under control, Lessing asked, "But how come he was found on the floor? Shouldn't it have killed him right away?"

Mike tilted his head. "Well, we talked to Bernie and a couple of other doctors about that. And they all think that, as bad as the internal damage was, it wasn't immediately fatal and Bennett actually had time to stand up and cross towards the door. He probably didn't know what was wrong; he could have thought he was having a heart attack and was trying to get help."

"Yeah, he even transferred the cigarette to his left hand so he could open the door. And he didn't bleed all that much because the entrance wound in this scrotum was so small…" Steve shrugged as the uncomfortable shuddering began again.

"Wow, this was a tough one," Haseejian said with a grim chuckle, shaking his head.

"You can say that again," Mike laughed. "We went down so many dead ends – the air conditioner, the maintenance man, that phone list of prostitutes." He exchanged a quick glance and a smile with his partner.

"Well, I just wish we could charge Linden with murder," O'Brien offered with a sad sigh. "Unfortunately, we can pile on the misdemeanors but the most serious charge we can nail him with is involuntary manslaughter. Because of his background, he'll get a little more time than if this had been his first offense but still… He'll be out in a few years and he gets to live the rest of his life a free man, if he's careful - but Mr. Bennett…" He left the rest of the sentence hang.

"Yeah, talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Tanner agreed sadly.

After a few seconds of reverent silence, Mike raised his head, looking at Haseejian. "Oh, yeah, Bill, Norm, thanks for getting Armitage to come clean. We felt Halladay was the easier touch, and he was, but it was a relief to get his account backed up. You guys did a great job with him."

"I'll say," agreed O'Brien, "sure made my job easier. That and getting our hands on the gun. You guys all did a terrific job, and my office owes you, big time."

"Seriously?" Mike took his foot off the drawer and sat forward, eyebrows on the rise, his voice light and playful. "You gonna remember that the next time your office tells us we don't have enough evidence to charge someone?"

"Hey, I can't make any promises," O'Brien chuckled, holding up both hands in a surrender gesture as everyone laughed.

Mike held is left forefinger up. "You heard him, fellas."

"He's got you, Gerry," Steve grinned and the ADA smiled back, shaking his head in resignation.

O'Brien leaned forward, starting to stand. "And on that note, before I get myself into any more trouble, I gotta head back to my office. Justice never rests, or something like that, right?"

"Yeah, something like that," Mike agreed quietly, putting his coffee cup on the desk. "Seriously though, Gerry, thanks. At least I have some good news to take to Bennett's widow."

O'Brien looked at the senior detective curiously. "Take? What, are you going back up there?"

Glancing sheepishly at Steve, Mike nodded. "Yeah, ah, Steve and I are gonna take a few days off. We need it. I don't know where he's going but I'm going north. Just gonna drive, but I thought I'd stop in and see Mrs. Bennett and let her know that her husband was really the man she always thought he was and that he was just, well, just incredibly unlucky."

O'Brien nodded slowly. "Yeah, I understand that. Tell her… well, just tell her we're gonna do our best to see that Linden never does anything like this to anybody else, ever again."

Mike smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Gerry, I will."

Ten minutes later, the small office had emptied out except for the partners. Mike was putting papers away, tidying his desk. Steve stood in the doorway, as if reluctant to leave. Mike glanced up and stopped what he was doing. "What?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know," the younger detective said, shaking his head slightly. "There's something about this case… This one is gonna stay with me for quite awhile, I think."

Smiling sympathetically, Mike nodded slowly in agreement. "Yeah, me too. I'm not sure why… it's just… I don't know, maybe because it was just so random, that it could have been any one of us… I don't know…" He shrugged.

"Yeah," Steve agreed, nodding slightly and turning towards his desk.

"Hey, ah," Mike said quickly, stopping him, "so, have you decided where you're gonna go?"

With a small half-smile, Steve shook his head. "Not really. I think I just need to sit on a beach somewhere and stare at the water for a bit, and just…think, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Mike said softly, looking down, then his head snapped up and his smile widened. "We did good, buddy boy. We did good."

Mirroring the look, Steve nodded once more. "Yeah, we did." Their stares locked for a few moments and the smiles disappeared. "You take care," Steve whispered softly.

"You too."