"Where do you think he would go?" Steve answered Jerry's question with a question.

"Usually, he just goes for a walk. Why is he so upset? Does it has something to do with that painting?"

"Yeah it does, do you know anything about it?"

"No, he refuses to part with it, or talk about it. It drove my mom nuts that he wouldn't sell it, especially when times were tight. All dad ever said was that it was part of his wasted youth. That's actually the title of the painting and where the name of the studio came from."

"Honestly, if he doesn't want to share the story with you, it's not our place to talk about it either. How long do you think he'll be gone? We'd like to finish our conversation with him."

"I don't know. When he's upset, he can walk for hours and believe me, he is as upset as I've seen him in a long time. You probably should leave."

Steve wrote a note on his card and left it with Jerry, "Please give this to him, it's important. And tell him we might soon know all the answers."

Catherine and Steve walked out to the car for the drive back to Berkeley, remaining silent for most of the trip.

"Why is it that some people seem to live a cursed life. That poor girl, what did she do to deserve a life like that?" Catherine asked.

"I don't know. Why did you blow your knee out and end your career before it started. Why did I get shot and leave the force? Bad things happen."

"I just doesn't seem fair."

"I know. Most of the time it doesn't make sense. Good people suffer. Good people die for no reason at all. Even after all these years I still struggle with what people do to one another. It seems to be getting worse, too. Hell, look at the political climate in this country, not to mention mass shootings, and terrorism foreign and domestic."

"I agree, but what can we do?"

"At the end of the day all we could ever do on the force was fight the good fight. When I couldn't do that anymore on the streets, I tried to spend my life giving people the tools to do it. Who knows." He took a breath and added, " I'll get off my soapbox now."

"Do you think he'll get back to us?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I hope he does. I think he needs to close the book on this as much as we do. If he doesn't, we'll wait for the DNA result and contact him again."

"How did you know that he loved her?"

"How did you not know he loved her? In my experience, nobody holds onto the portrait of a dead girl unless she was very, very, very important to them."

00000

It was going on 5pm when they pulled up to Boalt Hall. Steve dropped Catherine off at her car. After she pulled out, he had every intention of going home, but decided to go up to the office to finish packing.

His little adventure interviewing a witness after all this time made him keenly aware of how much he missed out on when he retired from the force. He didn't regret his choice to leave. The near death experience at the hands of a young woman with a gun made it a forgone conclusion. It took years of counseling to defeat the demons he carried from that day. Academia had been good to him, but it had cheated him out a lot of years working the streets with his best friend.

Trudging up the steps he made a promise to himself and Mike, This time, it's finished.

He unlocked the door to his office and looked at the mess. It was enough to make him want to turn around and leave, but barring the appearance of helpful elves, no one was going to finish the job for him.

First up was moving the full boxes out into the hall. He took a Sharpie from the top of his desk and began to mark the crates. When that was done, he ferried them into two piles out in the lobby: one to take home and one to donate. At Catherines insistence, he had called the University's Law Library and they were, to his surprise, thrilled to accept his archives.

After about two hours, all that was left was the furniture, his satchel and several full black trash bags. He would get the custodial staff to deal with the trash in the morning. The job was finally done. He went over to the small refrigerator under the window, curious to see what was left.

He was thrilled to find a couple of bottles of craft beer left over from a recent department mixer. He grabbed one and flopped down on his desk chair.

Or not my desk chair, he thought as a cold blast of hoppy goodness exploded on his taste buds. Without his belongings, the office was neutral, it really wasn't his anymore. He put his feet up on the desk and closed his eyes. The finality of the situation washing over him like a tsunami. He felt like he was adrift. What was he going to do with the time remaining to him?

His mind wandered to Catherine and what she had said earlier. The packing up process had made him realize how much he was going to miss her and their work on the cold case showed him just how much he enjoyed her company. Was it wise to start a relationship with someone 30 years his junior, probably not. On the other hand, she wasn't a kid, They knew each other. They had seen each other's best and worst over the years, so a lot of the getting to know one another bullshit was complete. Plus, if he was honest with himself, he had always been attracted to her, but the timing had been wrong.

Now, she had made it very clear that she was interested in pursuing, what? He wasn't sure. Love? Sex? Marriage? He didn't know what she wanted, he didn't even know what he wanted. How the hell did this happen. He got up and grabbed another beer.

While thinking about relationships, his mind went back to Irina. He was sure that Cameron had loved her deeply. Did she return that love? Was the baby his? When Steve first met Miller in the 70's he was clearly not a man in love, He was a skinny drug addict in need of a fix, What happened? At some point his inner dialogue turned into deep sleep.

00000

The smell of burnt coffee assaulted his nose. MIke sat down heavily in the chair and put two mugs down on Steve's small industrial desk.

"The tin is a little light, you got any change?"

"When do you ever have any change, Mike?"

"He touched a finger to the side of his head, "You're finally learning. Maybe someday you'll be a real detective!" Mike laughed deeply and long at his silly jibe. God, Steve had missed that laugh.

The clack of typewriters and ringing of phones punctuated the general din in the room. He was in the bullpen. He looked at his hands on the typewriter keys, but they weren't the hands of a 30 year old, they were the hands of an old man, complete with age spots, what the hell?

"So what do you think, buddy boy, was it the husband? Was she hiding from him?"

"That's my thinking. Those two Russian hanging around the coffee shop asking questions, maybe they worked for Petrovic, not the KGB.

"Could be, Cameron said the family was connected, maybe they were mob connected."

"Hold on Mike, how do you know all of this, we couldn't find him back in the day?"

"It's your dream, you are calling the shots and you have all the information in you head."

It had been a long time since he'd had a lucid dream. He wanted this time with Mike to last as long as possible, so he kept the conversation alive.

"That's my thinking. I just can't figure out how they found her, her cover was great."

"What about the little girl, Eva wasn't it?"

"You think she went back looking for the child. Why expose yourself?"

"Come on, you know the answer to that, you would have walked through fire for your girls, wouldn't you. You are lucky your divorce was so amicable, with what you did, she could have taken those kids away from you forever."

Steve considered what MIke said, knowing it was true. "So she was in the neighborhood looking looking for Eva and got spotted. That explains why the bus driver picked her up near the Church. I think it also explains why she got her driver's license, she was going to rabbit with the little girl."

"I'd bet a cup of coffee on that."

"Ah, Mike, I usually pay for the coffee."

"So you do, boy wonder, so you do," Mike laughed again.

It was like music to Steve's ears.

Mike got serious again, "What are you going to do about Catherine?"

"What do you mean, 'What am I going to do about Catherine?' You barely know her."

"You know, growing old alone is hell. After I retired, if you hadn't been around, I would have gone stir crazy. You think your work family is going to stay close, but they don't. Kids and grandkids are nice, but they have their own lives. You need somebody. I'm not saying you need to get married again or that you need a sexual relationship..."

Steve blushed, "MIKE!"

"Oh get over it, you're past 70. I don't even know if that's an option for you anymore."

Steve put his fingers in his ears, "La, la, la, la. I'm not listening."

Mike grabbed Steve's wrists and pulled his hands away from his ears, "Stop it, you're being ridiculous. All I'm saying is if you decide to go forward, and I really think you should, don't hurt her. She is a wonderful woman and deserves the best. Don't screw it up."

00000

The smell of hazelnut coffee assaulted his nose. A serious feeling of disorientation followed. He opened his eyes to see Catherine shaking her head and profering a mug of coffee.

"Aren't you a little mature for all nighters, Doc?"

Steve grabbed the mug and attempted to right himself in a dignified manner. He was only partially successful. Wow, what a dream.

"I'm old. I fell asleep. Get used to it."

"We're a little surly this morning. Anything I can do to help?" There was a smile in her voice.

"Actually a lot of things…" He said it before he even thought about how it sounded. At some point during the night, during his dream conversation with Mike, his brain had made the leap. Her's was a nice face to wake up to.

She blushed. "Um…"

"Nice retort, Ms. Wyland. How 'bout you get out of here until and let me wake up a bit."

"Sure, um, sure." She was still a little shocked. Things had certainly changed since yesterday. She smiled and closed the door on her way out.

Steve stood and stretched. Sleeping in a desk chair was not recommended for the over 70 set. He finished his coffee and ran a comb through his hair. The rest of his personal items had already been removed from his office, so the balance of his morning regimen would have to wait until he he got home.

When he came through the door, Catherine was sitting at her desk in the hub of the lobby, talking on the phone. He set his cup on one of the boxes by the door and headed for the rest room. Thank God he still had a tooth brush stashed in the cabinet.

He considered heading right out the door and home for a shower but he had a few final meetings this morning that would not wait. He glanced in the mirror. The face that looked back was someone he barely recognized. Even though time had been kind to him, he was still a senior citizen. He must be crazy to consider seeing Catherine socially, but if MIke thought it was a good idea...

He walked back to the lobby, picked up his mug and went to the coffee pot for a refill, before coming back to Catherine's desk. She was still on the phone. Before he could turn back towards his office, she held up a her index finger and looked over her reading glasses while mouthing, hang on one minute.

As he was waiting for her to finish, it occurred to him that he was starving. He knew he had breakfast yesterday, but was pretty sure he hadn't eaten the rest of the day. Catherine hung up the phone.

"That was HR. They need you to stop by sometime today or tomorrow for your exit interview and to sign your retirement package. I thought you already took care of that?"

"No, I've been dragging my feet, just like I have been with cleaning out the office, but now that it's done, I guess I need to seal the deal."

Steve looked at his watch, it was going on 9am. "What time is my appointment with the President?"

"9:30. Are you going like that?

Steve looked down at his slept-in chinos and oxford shirt. Fortunately, he had hung up his blazer when he came in last night.

"Why the heck not? What's he going to do, fire me?"

"It's not exactly up to your usual standards, is it?"

"True, but you know what? I'm retired."

"Touche. Did you manage to eat anything yesterday after you got back."

"Nope, I'm starving."

"You certainly live a charmed life, Dr. K."

"Steve. If we are going to do this, you're going to have to get used to calling me Steve."

She reached down and produces a bakery bag, "I stopped at the bakery this morning, there's a bear claw in there for you, I figured for your last day, well, happy retirement!"

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I don't know, but you are a lucky man, Steve Keller."

As he broke the pastry and gave her half, he replied, "You have no idea."