Chapter 13

Wilson glanced at Steve, who was staring at Beverly and she at him. Her eyes moved slowly to the older sergeant and she waited for his response. "How do you know this?"

A small smile finally emerged and she blinked slowly. "Let's just say I have friends in the department just like you do."

"Ah, would you care to elaborate on that?" Wilson asked carefully.

Beverly picked up her tea cup and took a sip. "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that. I have sources I have to protect just like you." Her eyes slid back to Steve, who had been studying her with a slight frown; he knew she wanted to tell them more but there was so much she needed to protect.

"So what are you thinking?" he asked her as he picked up a salad roll and dipped it in the sauce.

Relaxing, knowing that her words held weight and that she might actually be doing something good for both parties, she rested her forearms on the table and reached for a second roll. With a facial shrug, she said, "Well, I'm not a cop so I don't think like a cop," she glanced up at them both and smiled briefly, "but I'll tell you what I've heard. Something about a place called Brighton Beach in Brooklyn and a lot of not so very nice guys. And somebody pissing somebody else off. So, what? With the FBI involved, it's gotta be something like…oh, what do you call it? When they give somebody a new name and all that…?"

"Witness protection," Wilson offered, staring across the table with a newfound respect as Beverly bit into the salad roll. He looked sideways at his colleague. "Sound plausible to you?"

Steve nodded, glancing at Wilson before turning his attention back to the brunette opposite. "Makes sense. So what are we talking here, the FBI sends someone from New York, some Russian, out here in witness protection and he ends up being a rapist preying on prostitutes?"

Wilson shook his head as he picked up the third tea cup. "I'm thinking we have a lot of work to do, Steve, a hell of a lot of work." He raised the cup towards Beverly. "Miss Landau, I don't know about you or Steve here, but for the first time since I got that phone call about Irene and Mike, I'm getting my appetite back. And I'm gonna need more than just these rolls. Dinner's on me, what dya both say?"

Steve looked at Beverly and smiled, raising his eyebrows questioningly. She smiled at them both and nodded.

# # # # #

The dark blue sedan pulled to the curb under a streetlamp on the dark deserted street and Steve quickly got out of the back, opening the passenger side front door and extending his hand. With a broad grin, Beverly turned on the seat, put both feet on the sidewalk and took his arm, allowing the gallant young cop to help her to her feet. She leaned back into the car. "Thanks again, Bob, and, like I told you both, if I think of anything else, or hear anything else, I'll call you right away."

"You've welcome, Beverly, and thank you again… for me and Irene." His smile slipped slightly at his partner's name and her heart skipped a beat.

She turned to Steve and stared into his eyes; he smiled warmly back. "Please tell Mike I hope he makes a speedy recovery. Tell him I want to beat his ass at gin rummy again," she laughed softly.

"I will," he said with a chuckle. "Thank you. I promise Bob or I'll keep you up to date about things on our end too."

She nodded with a grim smile.

"You want me to walk you to your door?"

She pointed over her shoulder. "It's right there," she chuckled, indicating the glass-door entrance to a highrise. "I think I'll be okay."

"All right," he nodded agreeably. She started to turn away and he grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Thank you… for Mike and Irene."

She smiled at him warmly, leaned close and gently kissed his cheek. "Take care of yourself." She turned and walked away. He watched till she'd entered the apartment building then got into the front seat. He glanced at Wilson as he slammed the door, loudly releasing a deeply held breath.

"So, what do you think?" Wilson asked as he pulled the sedan away from the curb.

"I think you were right. We have a lot of work to do." He paused. "What do you think we should do? I mean, if it's something the FBI's involved in, we gotta tread very carefully."

"That's for sure. So what do you think? They sent this guy out here from New York because of – what? He's an informant? Material witness? And then this guy turns out to be some kinda maniac rapist? And are there two of them? It seems all the victims told Beverly there were two rapists, right? So who's the other guy? Is he from New York as well or someone he picked up here?"

Steve's eyes widened as he cocked his head and sighed. "So, what, the FBI don't know about it? Or, worse, they do and they're keeping their hands off him because they need him and don't want him locked up? Or even worse, he takes off on them and they lose him?"

Wilson was nodding. "Which begs the question – if they do know, and they're not doing anything about it, is it because all his victims, till two nights ago, have been prostitutes?" The thought was repugnant to both men and an angry silence filled the car.

"You know, maybe the attacks on the prostitutes and the attack on Mike and Irene aren't connected," Wilson postulated quietly. "I mean, from what Beverly said, all the victims were alone when they were grabbed. Why then would he change his M.O. and grab Irene when she was with Mike?"

"Maybe they didn't see him," Steve offered, studying the other man's profile. "Mike told me he'd stopped to tie his shoes and Irene had walked on ahead. Maybe when they grabbed her at the entrance to the alley they didn't see him."

Wilson nodded once with a facial shrug. "That's possible, I guess. But what about the fact that all the previous attacks were on or near Broadway. Why change location?"

"Maybe he didn't want to press his luck?" Steve threw out. "Like you said, we have a lot to do, but at least we have someplace to start. And I don't know about you, but I'm glad to have something to do because I know they're not going to let either of us investigate this and I was gonna start climbing the walls."

Wilson snorted with a laugh. "Boy, you can say that again. Oh, jeez, I'm driving you back to the hospital and I didn't even ask you if that's where you wanted to go."

Steve chuckled. "Yes, it is, actually. My car's there and I'd kinda like to look in on Mike."

"Yeah, I hear ya. I think I'll swing by the General on my way home too. Irene probably won't want to see me but it'll make me feel better just checking in on her."

Steve looked out the side window and sighed. "Yeah, I understand that."

# # # # #

Steve crossed the dimly lit ICU, having first stopped at the nurse's station for an update. He glanced at his watch again: 10:12. He was glad there were no visiting hour restrictions.

He stopped in the doorway; the tiny room was as dark as possible but there was still enough light to easily see the bed's occupant. Beneath the gauze bandage still encircling his head, Mike's eyes were closed; his hands were folded across his stomach.

As he crossed quietly to the side of the bed, Mike stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked slowly a couple of times, trying to focus. Steve put his hand on top of Mike's and squeezed. The older man's gaze finally found Steve's face and a slight, sad smile slowly developed.

"Hi," Steve said softly, returning the smile, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." Mike's voice was low; he seemed drained, as if the spark that was Mike Stone was gone. As they stared at each other, Steve gently shook Mike's hands; he sighed quietly, and Mike closed his eyes. The healing had not yet begun.

After several long seconds, Mike opened his eyes again. "Did you get anywhere?"

Steve stood up a little straighter and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, we might've. We, ah, we met with someone who might be able to –"

"We?" Mike interrupted, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, uh, me and Bob."

Mike nodded, closing his eyes. "Of course," he said with a low snort and a slight shake of his head. He opened his eyes again. "Has he seen Irene?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, ah, yesterday." Steve didn't want to have to tell Mike that Irene was refusing to see anyone except Jeannie, and he also didn't want to mention anything about Beverly Landau right now either.

Mike nodded again. "What did you find out?"

"Well, not much, but we have a place to start anyway." He smiled encouragingly. "Look, I want you to concentrate on getting better and then I'll bring you into the loop, okay?" he lied smoothly. He had no intention of telling Mike what he knew, or would learn over the course of the investigation, until it was over. There was enough on his partner's plate as it was; he wasn't going to add to the burden.

"So, ah," he continued, changing the subject, "they told me you're scheduled for another cat scan tomorrow morning and if it's clear as well, I get to take you home. That's pretty good news, hunh?"

Mike's eyebrows rose slightly. "I guess."

Steve smiled sadly. "It's gonna take time, Mike, we both know that. And I'm not just talking about your head… But you're not alone, you know that, right?" He waited till the older man nodded. "And you've gotta be strong for Irene… and you know that too, right?"

Mike took a deep breath, his gaze sliding away, but eventually he nodded once more.

Steve shook his hands again and his smile got a little wider. "Look, ah, I'm gonna let you get to sleep and I'm gonna go home and do the same. I'll be here tomorrow morning before they take you for the scan, okay? And then take you home when it's over." His persistent optimism was hard to resist, and he saw the ghost of a smile curl the older man's lips. Patting Mike's hands, he started to turn away.

"Steve… thank you."

The younger man swallowed heavily, then smiled once more. "You don't have to thank me for anything, ever," he said gently, "but you're welcome. Get a good night's sleep, will ya? And I'll see you in the morning."

He felt Mike's eyes follow him to the door and he turned back briefly, with a wink, before he left.

# # # # #

He was leaning against the headboard, the phone balanced on his stomach and a beer on the bedtable. He had enough time to pick up the bottle and take a sip before the call was answered.

"Hello?"

"Jeannie, it's Steve."

"Hi, where are you? At home?"

"Yeah, I just got in. I stopped in to see Mike on the way home."

"How was he? I talked to him earlier… he sounded pretty low. I'm worried about him."

"Don't be, Jeannie. He, ah, he's Mike, you know? He's got to process this just like he does everything else. He'll get through it. I think he's more worried about Irene and what this has done to her than anything else."

"Yeah, you may be right. He kept asking me about her."

"How is she?"

"Not good. She still won't talk to me about what happened, but I think me just being there is doing her some good. At least I hope so…"

"Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about that. So, listen, ah, they're gonna let your Dad out tomorrow morning if his cat scan is still negative. I'm gonna head over there first thing in the morning before they take him in for the scan and if he gets the go-ahead, I'll bring him home. Are you gonna go back in to see Irene?"

"Yeah, I told her I would and she seemed to want that. God, I feel so bad for her, Steve, and I don't know how to get her to talk about it…or even if she should, for that matter. I just don't know what to do…"

"I don't think anybody really does. I think you just do what you're doing and let her lead the way."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Hey, what happened at your meeting tonight? Did you find out anything?"

"Well, we have a lead which we're gonna follow up on but I don't want to go into any details, you know how it is."

"Only too well." There was a heavy sigh. "You be careful, all right?"

"I always am. Look, I'll let you go. We both need to get some sleep, I bet. I'll call you tomorrow after, fingers crossed, I get your Dad home, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan. Get a good sleep. Talk to you tomorrow."

Steve hung up the phone and put it on the table, picking up his beer at the same time. He thought about everything that had happened in the past 48 hours, how so many lives had changed, how many dreams had died.

And he made a promise, to Mike and to himself, that he wouldn't stop until whoever was responsible for all this pain and heartache was hunted down and caught, dead or alive.