A couple of days had passed since the fateful meeting with Karpa back at Q. And it had been deceivingly quiet in every aspect of the ongoing situation, to say the least.
Pressure from the brass had grown relentlessly for every day that their murder case, the subsequent and violent death of their hit-and-run drivers, as well as the abduction of Pauly and Christine remained unsolved; every detective worth their badge getting a pretty clear image that these weren't isolated acts of violence by any stretch of the imagination.
Several meetings had been held, discussing the viability of having Mike under protection, and allowing Haseejian, Haley and Steve to continue the investigation.
So far, the Lieutenant had managed to keep the concerns at bay, walking a fine line as they reassured Olsen that extra precautionary measures had been taken to protect everybody, starting with tighter security in the parking garage and entrance area, down to guards being posted on the Homicide floor and even the men's bathroom.
They'd spent an hour within the department thinking of anything that could turn into a dangerous weapon or poisonous if tampered with, and ensured that there was no public access available.
And then, just like a settling storm, everything had fallen strangely quiet.
Steve knew better than to trust the deceiving stillness, knowing that danger was still lurking around every street corner. But he did wonder just what exactly Karpa had ordered to throw them off guard this time around.
"You're still awake…"
Lori's quiet voice appeared by his ear, as Steve stretched out the arm he'd wrapped around her for fear of it going numb.
Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the comfort of her hand running across his chest, before resting it over his heart.
"I can't sleep. This whole situation has me worked up still."
In the darkness of his bedroom, he could hear her shift beneath the blankets, snuggle closer to him in hopes of providing some form of physical comfort. Steve waited until she bedded her beautiful head on his shoulder, the curls of her long brown hair tickling his arm, before clearing his throat again.
"It's frustrating to know that whoever is doing this in Karpa's name is still out there, playing some…some psychological warfare with my partner. And even though we went through as many phone records as possible already with Q, it hasn't yielded the least bit of valuable information. I swear this is beginning to drive me into a psychosis…which, ironically enough, is exactly what Karpa wants."
"You're still worried about Mike, aren't you?"
"Of course. He's my partner. He's the most important person in my life…besides you."
He'd caught himself just in time and bedded his head back down, staring mindlessly at the ceiling and the few bright spots from the street lamps and neighbors' houses that lit it up late at night.
Lori's warm breath against his neck was comforting, slowly lulling him back into a calmer frame of mind. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts drifted back to Mike, fearing for the Lieutenant's safety now more so than ever.
As his mind began another endless round of fretting, Steve noticed a fleeting spark of light moving across the ceiling, then, moments later, a second one. Years of police training and gut instinct quickly put two and two together, recognizing that motion as the opening and closing of a car door.
Close enough to assume that car was his.
"Follow me.", he whispered in unmasked urgency and jumped out of bed, knowing by heart where his furniture was, as he navigated the darkness of his bedroom effortlessly. Grasping the .38 Special off his nightstand as he passed by, Steve rushed down the narrow hallway, took a sharp left toward his front door, keeping his bare back pressed against the wooden doorframe, as he glanced through the alcove window toward the parking spot.
Just as he'd expected, a dark-clothed man was tampering with the Galaxy he'd left parked next to his Porsche downstairs.
"Lori, call 911. Tell them there's a 10-78 and to rush to my apartment, no lights or sirens. Suspect might be dangerous."
An officer in need of assistance.
It was his hope that the call for help would send an armada of support swarming toward his place in no time.
With that said, he slipped into his maroon cowboy boots, disregarding the half open zippers on the inside of his ankles, and quietly snuck out the door, hoping to finally put an end to the wild goose chase.