His legs crossed, his right foot keeping time to unheard music, Steve was leaning back in the not quite comfortable chair and studying the waiting room walls once again. They hadn't changed since he'd done so just a few minutes before. He blew out a deeply held breath between his lips.

"You sound like a bored horse," Rogers chuckled, flipping another page in the year-old Time magazine he was perusing.

"I am a bored horse," Steve said under his breath, hoping the elderly lady sitting across from him hadn't heard. He shot his cuff and glanced at his watch again. It had been almost a half hour since they'd entered the doctor's office, Rogers identifying them and flashing his badge and I.D. and requesting a meeting with the doctor.

His nurse, an older woman who resembled Nurse Ratched somewhat, told them the doctor was with a patient and they would have to wait until he was finished.

"Yes, ma'am," Rogers said with a cordial nod as he turned away from the counter and started towards the chairs, a confused and frowning Steve in his wake. "I had a drill sergeant that looked like her; I'm not going to argue, are you? Besides, it's not like we're on the clock, right?"

After a moment of silence and a grunt of agreement, Steve dropped down onto a chair, sat back, stretched his legs out and laced his fingers over his stomach.

That was twenty-seven minutes ago. Now he was getting antsy. Rogers glanced over and chuckled again.

They could hear muted voices in the interior hallway and then weird shapes through the opaque glass in the door beside the nurse's counter. The door opened and a deep male voice could be heard. "…and you just keep taking those antibiotics until the bottle is empty. That means you have to take them all, okay? No stopping just because you feel better, Mr. Ross, remember?"

An old man with a walking cane came into view, followed by a middle-aged man in a white coat and with a surprisingly large paunch.

"Oh, I promise, Doctor, I promise," the old man assured as he shuffled into the waiting room. "I'll see you next week."

The doctor looked at the two newcomers, realizing immediately they were not patients, and closed the door. They could hear him ask the nurse who they were and heard her reply. The door opened again and he popped his head around the corner. He smiled. "Gentlemen, if you'd like to come this way."

Both detectives got up and started to follow. When they entered the inner office, he closed the door behind them then gestured towards the two guest chairs as he headed for the large padded chair behind the desk. "What can I do you for, Detectives?"

Steve opened his mouth to explain that he wasn't actually a detective anymore but Rogers cut him off, identifying them again before saying, "Doctor Irwin, we need some information on one of your patients. Now before you cite doctor-patient privilege, we're not asking for anything illegal or even anything borderline." He stopped to take a breath and Steve took over.

"Doctor Irwin, a man's life is at stake here; a close friend of mine and my former partner. We're not asking you to breach any kind of confidentiality, we're only asking for confirmation on something. That's all."

Irwin looked from one 'detective' to the other, studying them. Then, with a slight nod, he leaned forward and put both forearms on the desk. "Which one of my patients are you talking about?"

"Gordon Mercer," Rogers said.

His face registering no reaction, Irwin punched a button on his phone. "Mary, could you bring me Gordon Mercer's file, please."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, while we wait for that to happen, what is it you need from me and I'll see if I feel comfortable answering your questions or not?"

Rogers chuckled, nodding through a smile. "All right. We've been told that Mr. Mercer broke his right hand sometime in mid to late September, and we just want to confirm that."

Irwin sat back and frowned. "Yes, yes, I believe he did. I'm not sure the exact date – that'll be in the file, but that sounds about right."

"So you remember?" Steve said, the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise.

"Yes, if I remember correctly, I think he said he did it changing a tire… somewhere up on the Blue Ridge Mountains, I think. Said the car fell off the jack and the loose tire landed on his hand."

"What were the extent of his injuries, do you remember?"

"Well, I have to check the file to be sure, but I think he had non-displaced fractures of the index and middle metacarpal bones, and he had cuts and bruises on all the knuckles of his right hand. He said his hand was under the tire when it hit the ground."

The door opened and the nurse entered, handing a file folder to the doctor and smiling at his guests. "Thanks, Mary," the doctor said to her retreating back. He opened the folder; the form he was looking for was right on top. "Let's see here," he mumbled, scanning the form, "ah, yes, I was right, those were his injuries. And that date was…Tuesday, September 18th. Is that the information you were looking for?"

Both detectives smiled. "Yes… yes, thank you," Rogers nodded, glancing at Steve with a warning look, then continuing quickly, "Um, do you remember, when he came in, was his hand already bandaged? I mean, did it look like he had seen a doctor already?"

"Do you mean did the bandage look like it was professionally applied?" Both Steve and Rogers nodded. "Well, as a matter of fact, he told me it happened somewhere near Roanoke, Virginia and he took himself to the emergency room of the Memorial Hospital there. They just taped his hand up but when he was driving back he thought maybe they'd missed something and that he felt he had broken his hand. I took an x-ray here and he was right." He looked at both of his guests with raised eyebrows and a curt nod.

# # # # #

"How far is it from here to Roanoke?" Steve asked as they got into the car.

"Oh, about three-and-a-half, four hours. Depends on the weather this time of year." Rogers looked at Steve as he put the key in the ignition. "You know, we don't have to go there – we can just call the hospital."

Steve stared at the older man with an exasperated sigh. "I know that," he said pedantically, "and we will, I just meant, how long would it take to drive and does it make for a good alibi?"

Rogers chuckled as he turned the engine on and pulled out into traffic. "Sure, a lot of people go down to the mountains, some of them almost every weekend. It's not out of the question."

"Hmmm," Steve grunted as he sat back, laying his head against the seat, "I hope the guys back home can find some record of him visiting a hospital or a doctor there."

"Yeah, but if Roanoke confirms, then you're gonna have to start looking elsewhere, right?"

"Right." Steve's sigh was long and heartfelt. "Hey, what was that look about? The one you shot me in Irwin's office after he confirmed the date?"

Rogers thought for a few seconds then brightened. "Oh, that? Sorry, I knew you were suddenly on tenterhooks and I didn't want you asking Irwin if he thought those injuries could be caused by a fistfight. Didn't want to give him anything to pass along to Mercer, should he decide to. I know we told him this was confidential and he agreed but, hey, we don't know if these two have a… relationship outside of doctor-patient, do we?" He chuckled. "Besides, that's something you can ask your coroner back in 'Fris-…. Sorry, San Francisco…" The belly laugh filled the car once again.

# # # # #

"Yes, yes, that would be sometime on Monday, September 17th… yes, of this year…" Rogers put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone on Drabinsky's desk, growling and rolling his eyes; Steve chuckled. "Yes… yes, from Hagerstown, Maryland… Gordon Mercer – M-E-R-C-E-R…" He put his hand on the mouthpiece again, saying sotto voce, "As in Johnny Mercer, the guy who wrote 'Moon River."

Laughing, Steve glanced around the bustling office. For a small city, Hagerstown had a busy police department. Almost all the desks were manned and everyone seemed to be on a phone. He made a mental note that if the chief had a spare moment while he was in town, he would love to talk to him about small city policing; it was something he might be able to incorporate into his courses and lectures.

"They're checking," Rogers whispered, his hand still over the mouthpiece. "So, when we finish here, wanna run over to Mercer's house and do a drive-by?"

"Sounds good to –"

"Yes," Rogers said suddenly, taking his hand off the handset, "yes… Okay, thank you very much. We really appreciate it." He hung up slowly, looking at the phone, and a smile gradually appeared.

Steve tensed and leaned forward. Rogers looked up and met his eyes. "They have no record of a Gordon Mercer from Hagerstown or anywhere else, on that day or ever." His smile turned into a grin. "The bastard lied."

# # # # #

"So, yeah, Dan, I want you guys to really concentrate on the hospitals and the doctors tomorrow, okay? We know he lied about being in the Blue Ridge Mountains – well, at least we know he lied about going to the Roanoke hospital to get his hand bandaged."

"So that means, we hope, that he got it looked at here. The son-of-a-bitch. God, I want this guy, Steve. I'll call the fellas as soon as I hang up from you. Hey, you said you and Rogers went by Mercer's house?"

"Yeah, nothing there. It's just a house… well-kept, nothing stands out. We didn't want to talk to any of the neighbors, not yet anyway 'cause we don't know which ones would tell him and we don't want to tip our hand just yet, of course. Too many unanswered questions before we take that step."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Hey, have you heard from Jeannie? She might have called me but because I've been out of town…"

"Yeah, actually, ah, she called me last night."

"Has she heard from Mike?"

"Yep, she says he called her Saturday night and he sounded good. He promised to call back tonight so I expect to hear from her again tomorrow."

"He hasn't called you?"

"No… no, I think he's too embarrassed to… I think he feels he let me down, you know… you too."

"Yeah… yeah. Well, you know what we have to do, we gotta get him outa there and the sooner the better."

"Yeah, well, we will. I'm finally starting to feel a little better about all of this, and I can hardly wait to tell the guys what you've uncovered out there."

"Yeah, well, I better get going. Stan and I are going out for dinner here in Hagerstown with the local detective we worked with and the chief, and then we're going to head back to Philly. I'm flying out early afternoon so I should be back in The City mid-afternoon."

"You need a pick-up?"

"No, I left my car in the lot. But I'm probably gonna go straight home so I'll call you tomorrow night and we can all meet the next day. But if you guys come up with something, anything, leave a message at my place and I'll get back to you right away." He paused and took a deep breath. "I'm beginning to get a good feeling about this Dan, I really am."

"Me too, Steve, me too."

"Say hi to the guys for me and have a good night and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You too. 'Bye."

Steve hung up the phone on Rogers desk and sat silently for several long seconds. He looked at the date on the small calendar on the corner of the desk. The coming Thursday, the day after tomorrow, was Thanksgiving. He'd had no idea and, if he was honest with himself, he didn't care.

There was only one thing on his mind right now. He had to get Mike out of prison, and he had to do it before Christmas.