By the time he was dumped, heavily and unceremoniously, back onto the bed, the pain was so intense he couldn't see. Breathing in ragged gasps through his open mouth, his eyes squeezed closed, he could feel his entire body shaking with the effort to control the agony that radiated out from this left shoulder.
He didn't even notice the ropes around his ankles being tied to the footboard, nor the one around his right wrist to the bedpost. His head was lifted slightly and a pillow shoved under it. He didn't feel the IV line reattached to the needle in the back of his right hand but he did feel the weight of the blanket as it was pulled back into place.
Suddenly a soft hand was against his cheek again, incongruously comforting. "There, there," Carole's soothing voice reached through the miasma of pain that had enveloped him, "you just lie there for awhile… we'll think about breakfast later…" She patted his face gently a couple of times then the touch disappeared and a few seconds later he heard the door close.
He knew he was alone. Still trying to get the pain under control, his gasps for air turned into silent sobs of fear and despair.
# # # # #
"What the hell is this doing here?" Haseejian growled as he circled the dark blue Galaxie parked alongside the thick wooden ties at the edge of the pier.
The car didn't look like it had been abandoned in a hurry; the windows were up and the doors locked. Without touching the side window, Healey, shielding his eyes from the sun, stared at the dashboard then nodded as he straightened up. "The keys aren't in the ignition. It looks like it was parked here deliberately, not like it was dumped on the fly."
Olsen, staring at the sedan, his hands on his hips, was shaking his head slowly in bewilderment. "Okay, I'm getting the lab guys down here. I want them to go over the entire car for fingerprints."
"I'll do that," Haseejian volunteered, heading back towards the moss green LTD that he and Healey had arrived in.
Devitt was standing at the edge of the pier, staring down at the water. Olsen and Healey joined him.
Healey frowned at the grey-haired captain, following his stare. "What?" he asked quietly. "You don't think…?" He left the rest of the question hanging.
"What?" Devitt echoed, a touch of shock in his voice. "No, of course not. But I'm thinking, whoever dumped the car might've tossed the keys in there…" He gestured towards the water with his chin.
Pursing his lips, Olsen nodded. "You could be right about that, but I'm not gonna authorize a dive team until we've got more proof."
Olsen looked back at the Galaxie. "Where the hell is he?" he muttered under his breath.
"Captain!" Haseejian shouted from the LTD; he was standing in the open driver's door, the radio mic in his hand. All three turned towards him. "Cassidy figured out where Mike went last night. I've got the address. He's going to meet us there."
As he started towards their cars, Olsen glanced at the others. "Then let's go." As he got closer to the maroon Galaxie, Devitt crossing to the driver's side door, he stopped and turned to the two uniformed officers standing near their cruiser. "The lab guys are coming here to process the car," he nodded towards the dark blue Galaxie with his chin. "When they finish, have it towed to the garage."
"Yes, sir."
He slipped onto his car and slammed the door, reaching under the seat for the portable red beacon and slapping it onto the roof over his head as Devitt followed the other unmarked car out of the pier.
# # # # #
Cassidy was leaning against his car on the sidewalk outside the dilapidated four-storey walk-up when the two large sedans pulled to a stop further up the block and the four detectives got out. He pushed himself upright as they joined him. "He came here to see a Mrs. Carolyn Hetherington… 2B."
He led them towards the wrought-iron gate and they were all surprised to find it unlocked, as was the front door. They jogged up the stairs to the second floor, all of them noting the somewhat less than pristine condition of the entire building. Haseejian made a mental note not to touch anything.
They stopped outside 2B and Cassidy knocked. A pleasant female voice yelled, "Coming!" and they could all hear the soft footfalls approaching the door. It opened slightly, to the length of the chain, and a tiny, wrinkled face, wearing a tentative smile under a neat thatch of white hair peered at them through narrowed eyes. "Yes?"
"Ah, Mrs. Hetherington?" Cassidy asked.
"Yes…"
"Ah, I'm Captain Cassidy from the San Francisco Police. Ah, if it's all right, my colleagues and I," he nodded vaguely over his shoulder, "were wondering if we could ask you a few questions? It won't take long." He was holding his badge up so she could see it.
Her eyes narrowed even more as she squinted at the I.D. then she shut the door and they could hear the chain being removed. The door swung open again. Her smile had disappeared. "Well, it's about time," she lashed out. "I called over two weeks ago."
Taken aback, Cassidy scrambled. "Ah, yes, we're sorry for the delay -" he began but Olsen, taking a step closer, cut him off.
"Nobody came to see you yesterday?" he asked, frowning, and her moist blue eyes snapped towards him.
"No, nobody came yesterday. Or any other day for that matter. I've been waiting -"
"You didn't have a visit from a Lieutenant Stone late yesterday afternoon?" Olsen persisted.
She pinned him with a glare that could have peeled paint. "Didn't I just tell you that? Nobody's come to see me about my complaint." Her eyes travelled across them all. "And why are there five of you here? That seems a little -"
"Excuse me, ma'am," Devitt interrupted, pushing slightly in front of Olsen and pointing into the apartment. There were several large cardboard boxes within view. "Did you just move?"
Reflexively, she glanced over her shoulder before looking back at him. "Yes, just a couple a days ago. Why?'
"Where from?"
"What?" Her head inclined slightly and she frowned in confusion.
"Where did you live before?" Devitt asked, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.
"Upstairs. I used to live on the fourth floor but climbing all those stairs was just getting to be too damn hard -" She explained sharply, warming to the subject.
"What number?" Olsen overrode her, every eye now riveted on her face.
She froze, suddenly realizing the urgency in the request. "4D. I used to live in 4D."
As one, all five detectives turned and started towards the staircase.
"What?!" she called after them. "I called you people and told you I'd moved! So, are you going to do something about my complaint or not?!" she yelled as they disappeared from her sight.
# # # # #
The bedroom door slammed open and Carole entered with a tray and a big smile, Oliver trailing in her wake. "I think it's time you had something to eat," she announced brightly as she crossed to the right side of the bed and put the tray on the floor.
Oliver, a very large and very strong young man who Mike had realized was mentally challenged and almost non-verbal, padded heavily to the other side of the bed. Without a word, he slipped his right arm under Mike's shoulders and lifted him into a sitting position.
The sudden movement was jarring. Mike's left shoulder exploded in pain once again and he cried out, almost putting his teeth through his bottom lip as he tried to control the agony while the room reeled in front of him and he teetered on the edge of consciousness.
Oliver held the injured man in a sitting position as Carole stuffed a bunch of pillows, that had been stacked on the floor beside the bed, behind him. Satisfied with her work, she nodded at her son, who let the now limp body slump back against the pillows then, without expression, he trudged from the room.
Humming to herself, Carole picked up the breakfast tray and put it on the bed over Mike's legs. She grabbed the red cloth napkin, shook it out and put it in his lap.
Breathing in short, sharp gasps, trying to get a handle on the pain, Mike opened his eyes, watching her every move. As she poured a small amount of milk into the bowl of oatmeal, she glanced at him and smiled. "I hope you're hungry," she chuckled brightly, her eyes wide and disturbingly warm.
He swallowed heavily then cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked breathlessly and he saw her freeze. Her smile wavered slightly and she turned to him, a small part of the confidence leaving her face for a brief moment.
"Why, I'm saving your life, of course," she said happily, her attention returning to the tray as she picked up a small canister of brown sugar and sprinkled it over the oatmeal.
He raised his right forearm slightly. "Why am I tied to the bed?"
She glanced at him again with a quick grin. "So you don't fall out, silly," she giggled as she picked up the spoon and scooped up a small portion of the oatmeal, bringing it close to his face.
He stared at her for a couple of very long seconds then he opened his mouth. Very carefully, she inserted the spoon.
# # # # #
It was very dark on the fourth floor. The overhead light at the end of the hall was out and the small window offered very little light. The glass been covered with newspaper at one point and was now more a wall than a window.
They moved silently down the corridor, their guns in their hands. Cassidy led the way. They could barely make out the 4D on the door when they approached. Standing to the side, Cassidy knocked loudly. All five listened carefully but nothing could be heard from inside. Glancing at Devitt right behind him, Cassidy knocked again, louder. "San Francisco Police," he bellowed. "Open up." There was still no sound.
With a frustrated sigh, Cassidy turned his head and looked at Olsen. "What do you think? Extenuating circumstances?"
"I think so," the shorter, grey-haired captain agreed, looking at the others, who were all nodding.
"Yeah, that's what I think too," Cassidy concurred as he stepped in front of the door, reared back and drove his right leg into the wood near the knob. The door shot open and he charged into the room, his gun up, the others right on his heels.
Like the trained officers they were, they fanned out, moving quickly but cautiously through all the rooms of the small apartment, making sure no one was there.
Seconds later, holstering their .38's, they congregated in the living room. All the rooms were completely empty but against the outer wall of the living room, near the window, was a thin, filthy mattress, a dirty blanket and pillow, an overflowing ashtray, a pack of rolling papers, a blue Bic lighter and an unknown number of empty chip bags and snack wrappers. Someone had obviously been squatting.
Haseejian looked at Cassidy. "So, what, you think Mike came here by mistake?"
The IA captain shrugged.
"What a minute?" Healey said, frowning at Cassidy. "How come you had that lady's apartment number and Mike didn't?"
The captain's eyes narrowed. "I have no idea. I found the file this morning on Mike's desk and there was a telephone message sitting on top. It had her apartment number on it." He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He crossed to the window and stared at it in the light then looked up at the others. "It's dated yesterday - 5:20 pm." He snorted dryly.
"Great," Healey growled, "perfect timing…"
Devitt was looking around the living room, frowning. "But I can't see anything that tells us Mike was even here last night… do you?"
The others shook their heads, frustrated and worried. Haseejian and Devitt started back towards the front door. Olsen sighed heavily. "I'll put a uniform on this place and get the lab guys to check it out. Maybe they can find something… get some fingerprints from all that crap…" He gestured with barely-controlled anger at the detritus on the floor.
"Wait a second," Haseejian said suddenly and they all looked to where he was standing at the front door. He had raised his hand and was running it, shoulder high, over the wooden door. "Roy, what does this look like to you?" he asked as Devitt examined the door then took a step out into the hallway.
He squatted, staring at the carpet, then looked up at his colleagues who had gathered in the doorway. "There's blood…"