The soft warm air flowing through the vents by the drivers' side made the hairs on his forehead blow in the breeze whenever he glanced over at his partner. With his arms crossed over his chest, and the fedora tipped down over his eyes, Mike appeared to be taking a nap, although Steve couldn't be entirely sure.
Between his time in the Pacific and almost three decades on the force, there was a good chance the Lieutenant had mastered the art of sleeping and being awake at the same time long ago.
Arguably, after the hearty lunch over at Dominick's prior to heading out, Steve had felt a little drowsy himself, the prime rib sandwich sitting in his upset stomach like a bar of lead. It had been Mike's idea, trying to throw some lightheartedness into an emotionally charged day.
Part of him looked forward to finding answers in Modesto, the other part dreaded every moment of it.
Not because of his family situation, but because of the inevitable trauma related to every aspect of this despicable crime. Steve was deeply afraid for little Randy, that they'd come too late to save him, and even if they didn't, that much of the damage to his body and soul may not be reversable.
Suddenly, he was ripped out of his brooding when a lime green Fairlane cut him off sharply, trying to go around a slow semi in the right-hand lane without bothering to check the rearview mirror. It brought him back to his black-and-white days, making his right hand jerk, ready to reach for the siren and light switches.
Slowing the large Galaxy down to regain a safe travelling distance between both cars, Steve swallowed his irritation and waited for the driver to finish his maneuver. As the Fairlane pulled back into the right-hand lane, the young Inspector sped up ever so slightly, careful not to wake Mike with the roaring of the engine, as he decided to pull away from the irresponsible driver.
Their case was nothing he'd ever experienced before.
He'd heard about horrible things being done to children through second-hand reports from other detectives, but nothing quite like that. The terrifying countdown in the back of his mind had robbed him of much-needed sleep over the past few days, his imagination taking him to Randy's whereabouts over and over again, envisioning the terror that the little boy was going through, while they were spinning their wheels.
It was frustrating and infuriating all at the same time.
Steve blinked when he felt his dry eyes starting to burn, reminding him to stop gazing mindlessly ahead and focusing back on the road.
580 wasn't a busy road this time of the day, although he knew well enough that rush hour traffic around 4pm would turn the wide-open highway into a near parking lot. He knew every mile leading to Modesto by heart, every bump in the asphalt, every hill, every exit and every secret hiding spot the Highway Patrol used for traffic watch. In the end, Steve couldn't help it; no matter what he'd told Mike or how he felt about the situation, this drive seemed like an awkward sort of homecoming.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the green Fairlane creep up again on the right. Knowing his own speed, the driver had to have significantly sped up to get close to him again; probably to execute a second questionable maneuver. His suspicion was confirmed when he recognized another semi-truck half a mile out.
Steve pushed the gas pedal down a little more, careful not to wake Mike in the middle of his road rage entertainment. Subconsciously tightening his hands around the steering wheel, he felt the Galaxy speed up slowly but surely, thus cutting off the Fairlane's window to get in front of him, before catching up with the semi.
He hadn't anticipated the other driver's surprising fury when he gunned his engine and flew past him, before cutting him off at the last second once again, forcing Steve to touch the brakes.
Cursing under his breath, he stole a glance over to his partner, who hadn't moved at all, wondering what Mike would say if he'd turn on the siren to execute a traffic stop. But then again, they had more important matters to focus on at the moment.
As he let his temper settle back down, Steve slowed the Galaxy somewhat, grateful to see the other driver pull away from them. Stretching his back and neck in an effort to pull his mind off the anger, he noticed a sign ahead, reminding him that Modesto was another thirty miles out.
Regardless of what would happen with his father, Steve was bound and determined to remain professional, prove to Mike that he could handle any challenging situation thrown in his way, no matter the consequences.
Five years ago, the Lieutenant took a huge chance, and caused a significant rift in the Homicide department when he picked him as his partner. It was a life-changing Y in the road he'd needed the most at that time, and Steve was certain the same held true for Mike.
The new career path had helped to shape him into the detective he was now, somebody who exuded authority as much as he showed respect and compassion for others. Somebody who might even motivate those crossing his path to choose a career in law enforcement. And most of all, he had become somebody he could look up to in the mirror.
It was something he hadn't always been able to do during the days of his colorful past.
Biting his lip, Steve shut down the dramatic images flooding his mind, pictures of violent protests, hand-held signs criticizing the war, groups of friends sitting in a circle smoking grass until they all passed out. He blinked again, and suddenly found himself in a different decade of his life, filled with stamp albums, pool floats, dinosaur bedsheets and cherry pie for Labor Day; hauntingly peaceful scenes that were anything but at the time.
Letting out a shuddered breath, he resumed his lip-biting, desperately reminding himself that there was a clean cut between his then-life, and his now-life, and right in between stood the police academy; like a castle wall that kept him safe from a challenging past.
Steve was a new person now, more centered, better focused on the values he wanted to pursue in life, far more mature and far less likely to dwell on something he couldn't change. It may have been a difficult few years to get to this point, but he was proud nonetheless, and unwilling to let anything stand in the way of his self-respect, most definitely not his father.
A green flash to his right up ahead pulled him out of his deep brooding once again, woefully realizing that the Fairlane was back, after having been caught between a pattern of thick traffic. With a large station wagon in front, a pickup behind him and a row of steady traffic Steve had been tailing in the left lane blocking him from passing, the irate driver was accelerating and braking repeatedly to show off his growing displeasure.
Sensing an opportunity for payback, Steve closed the gap between the last car of the group on the left, slowly creeping up on the offender. Risking a glance into the cab of the Fairlane, he saw a lone occupant, middle-aged Caucasian male, completely bald, the veins on his neck and head sticking out against his pale skin, as he yelled expletives and gestured wildly.
With a faint smirk, he waited until the Galaxy was right next to the green car, then slowed down enough to match the Fairlane's speed and block him, causing the irate driver to direct his anger toward the tan sedan, as the rest of traffic moved on.
He'd stayed in that position for a couple of miles, much to the amusement of the surrounding traffic that had imitated his speed, keeping the offender safely tucked in between vehicles. Feeling thoroughly accomplished about teaching a fellow motorist a lesson in respect, Steve never saw Mike wake up, until the Lieutenant's hand grasped his wrist tightly.
"Aren't you a little old to be playing games like that?"
He could hear the discontent and criticism in Mike's voice all the way from the passenger bench.
Glancing over wordlessly and meeting the disapproving blue eyes, Steve kept his gaze unreadable, torn between justifying his behavior and backing off to appease the Lieutenant.
With a quiet sigh, Mike let go of him and reached for the badge in his overcoat, before slapping it against the passenger window for the other driver to see, as he pointed his index finger toward the sign for the next exit. With a horrified glare, the man slammed on the brakes, causing the pickup behind him to blow his horn in protest, before heading for the upcoming departure ramp in a mad rush.
When he turned his attention back to Steve, there was a shadow of regret flooding his features.
"Should I drive?"
"No.", the young Inspector answered in an even tone, before speeding up to get ahead of the group of traffic next to him, "We're almost there. I got this."
With his focus back on the highway and the slight hills on either side of it, Steve could only make out a headshake from the passenger bench, as Mike reached for their case file, preparing for their first stop at Modesto PD.
"I hope you do, Buddyboy, I sure hope you do."