"Aren't you gonna eat your sandwich?"
Steve had been staring at the brown paper bag for a few minutes, relishing the savory aroma, but not summoning the motivation to let his guard down and eat.
More so than before, he felt like prey, practically sensing Estaban nearby, although they hadn't seen him thus far. Mike's plan was both, extremely bold and undeniably risky, and he was committed to go all in on it. Yet, there was that tiny little voice disrupting his thoughts, nagging him relentlessly and wondering if he had completely and irrefutably lost his mind.
Never as a police officer do you use yourself as a target.
Steve couldn't remember how many times Mike had drilled that sentence into his brain. The importance thereof. The impact if one didn't yield that warning.
Just like they were right about now.
"I figured I'd better wait to see how it treats you first…", he replied gently, managing a faint smile, as he took another sip of water, watching Mike adjust the binoculars, as he stared out of the motel window down at the main road of rural Mill Valley.
"You mean, you want to see if it's poisoned.", the Lieutenant mumbled, half-jokingly, half dead-serious.
"Something like that, yeah."
Leaning against the back of the bed, Steve opened the top few buttons of his mandarin dress shirt, trying to relax his body, even if his mind couldn't. With his knees pulled to his chest, the revolver lying by his right hand, he took several deep breaths, hoping to settle his nerves.
The shiny black steel of his .38 was reflecting the sunlight coming in through the partially drawn curtains, the gun looking so out of place in what seemed like a peaceful room people spent their vacation at.
Stretching out his stiff back, Steve felt the pressure of the handcuffs against the waistband of his gray dress pants, a not so subtle reminder that they were here on anything but vacation-matters.
"You think he knows we're up here already?", he continued cautiously, only to watch Mike nod ever so slightly, never putting down the binoculars.
"He knows. I bet you ten bucks word got out the moment I had Cappy talk to Curtis the paperboy down the street. Remember him? He likes to do the races. He also likes to do small time hustles for the big-time guys in town. I just hope by now that Jimmy Desco and his team have got a lead on Karpa's middle man. That should give us one piece of the puzzle."
Nodding, Steve glanced longingly back over at his sandwich, then decided to keep his guard up just a bit longer.
They'd checked in an hour ago, stationing two plain clothes detectives on the opposite end of the dated motel overlooking the backside, while he and Mike would cover the front. The rest of the crew was across the street at a Bed and Breakfast, covering both sides of the road, as well as the parking lot and their cars.
If things went according to Mike's plan, the moment Esteban approached the motel, they'd be able to apprehend him.
It was their hope that after several failed attempts at their lives, the hired Hit man would grow frustrated, rushed even, and begin to make mistakes.
At least one could hope.
"How long do you think before he shows up?"
The question made Mike shrug and he put the binoculars down for a minute, as if to ponder an answer. From his distance, only a trained eye could see the slight shudder running through the Lieutenant beneath the black suit and light blue vest, before he decided to answer.
"I can't explain it, Buddyboy, but something deep inside tells me that he's already here."