Steve was nodding slowly; since his brief conversation with the diner waitress, the same thought had been rolling around in his own mind. But he stayed silent; he needed Jeannie to finish her account on her own.

"I kept trying to fight back but he had me pinned…" She was looking down again and, almost incongruously, a small smile curled her lips. "I managed to bite his hand at one point when he was trying to get his zipper down…. I think I really hurt him." Her smile disappeared and her left hand drifted slowly towards her eye. "That's when he hit me…" Her voice was so soft Steve could barely hear her.

"It really hurt… I think I almost passed out, I'm not sure…. My eye started to swell and I could feel the blood… He got more violent. He'd pulled my pants down… my panties… and I could hear his zipper…" She swallowed heavily. "There wasn't anything I could do… so I just closed my eyes… and prayed…" She dropped her head and he could see her shoulders start to shake.

He wanted so much to reach out, to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he couldn't. He clenched his teeth, trying to control the rage building deep inside.

After several long silent seconds, she raised her head slightly. She knew she had to finish, for Steve, for herself and, even more importantly, for her father. She took a deep breath and released it slowly through her mouth. "He, ah, he laid on top of me… I could feel his belly against mine, his hand…. It was warm…" She stopped, shuddering, then looked up at the man sitting patiently in front of her. "He, ah, he didn't, um…" She shook her head. "I heard the door slam open again and a roar… and suddenly he was gone…" A look almost of wonder creased her features. "He was just gone…. I crawled into the corner of the bathroom, to get away from him even more, but I could see him outside, on the ground, and Mike was kneeling over him, and he was hitting him… over and over…"

She stopped talking again and closed her eyes. Her entire body was shaking, and she started rubbing her hands over her upper arms. Although he couldn't see them through the long sleeves, he knew she was probably covered in bruises. He swallowed his anger.

"I thought Mike was going to kill him…. I could hear his fist, hitting him over and over and over again… the moans of pain… and I just closed my eyes, I just wanted it all to end…" She dragged a deep breath into her lungs and held it for a long beat before letting it out in a strangled sob. "Then suddenly Mike was picking me up, carrying me…. I thought he was taking me to the car but he took me to the front of the store… but it was closed…"

Her head came up and she met Steve's eyes. "I didn't know Mike had been shot. I don't remember hearing it happen… but he told me he was all right. And I believed him…" She smiled almost sadly, looking away again and shaking her head. "He can be very persuasive…" she said softly.

Steve allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "Yes, he can…"

Jeannie looked at him from under a lowered brow, her smile warm, and she snorted gently. "So we, ah, we got in the car. I know we both wanted to get out of there." Her head came up quickly. "Oh, I forgot about the fan belt. The fan belt -"

"It's okay, Mike told me about it," Steve interrupted calmly with a nod.

"Oh, okay, good. Well, we were driving to town when they came after us. I know Mike was worried, he made us put our seatbelts on…. They got really close and Mike tried to block them, but then the fan belt snapped and they rammed us and Mike lost control…" She sighed heavily and looked down at the bed in front of her. "And the next thing I remember was waking up in the doctor's office with stitches in my forehead and being told I was being charged with accessory to murder and that Mike was under arrest for murder." The scowl she threw in Steve's direction was laced with anger. "They didn't even let me see him before they brought me here."

Steve smiled at her warmly. "He's doing great," he said softly, encouragingly then nodded gently. "Thanks for doing that, it's important that I heard everything from your perspective."

She smiled softly and nodded.

"Listen, ah, I need to ask you a couple of questions, okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay, thanks. The guy that, ah, well, the guy - do you remember anything about him? What he was wearing, any facial hair, his hair color, anything?"

She frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Why do you need to know that? I mean, the man that was killed, he was the one who tried to… to molest me, that's what they told me…. That's why they say Mike killed him."

"I know, I know," Steve intoned soothingly, raising both hands, "but I just want to make sure the guy that… the guy that attacked you was the same guy that was killed, that's all. It's just Interrogation 101, I guess you could call it, that's all."

She stared at him for a beat then nodded. "I understand." Her focus turned inward. "Well, he was a lot taller than me but not as tall as Mike, and he was slightly built, almost skinny. He had dark hair, kinda your length." She gestured at him with her chin. "I don't think he had a beard but there was stubble, I think. His hands stank of cigarettes. I tasted it when I bit him, and there was beer on his breath."

"Good, good," he said quietly, nodding. "What was he wearing?"

"A leather jacket, an old one but it wasn't a cheap one. I think his shirt was red, maybe red and black check, I'm not sure…. Jeans. And boots. When Mike had him on the ground, I remember seeing boots, those square-toed cowboy boots." She looked at him. "Is that enough?"

"Are you kidding?" Steve chuckled. "That's better than enough, that's amazing. I know a whole bunch of lawyers that would love to get you on the stand as a witness, that's for sure."

She smiled softly, half pride, half embarrassment. "I guess that comes from growing up in a house with a cop."

He laughed. "Maybe."

They both fell silent, their smiles lingering. Finally she said, "So, do you think…" She swallowed, as if not wanting to put her fears into words. "Do you think they're going to able to do this, to pin this murder on Mike and get away with it?"

Steve smiled encouragingly. "Not if I have anything to do about it." He glanced at his watch. "Listen, ah, I promised you I'd tell you all about my day - and that's gonna take awhile, believe me." He smiled mirthlessly. "Why don't I go get us a decent lunch and bring it back and tell you while we eat? Would you like that?"

"I would love that," she grinned, reaching out to take his hand. "They never ask me what I want, they just keep bringing me ham sandwiches for lunch. They're okay but I'd really like a salad."

"Then a salad it is," Steve laughed as he got to his feet. "Oh!" He stopped himself. "Before I forget." He reached into his pocket and took out a pack of gum and the Butterfinger. "A little treat. I got your dad a Milky Way."

"Aw, that's sweet," Jeannie chuckled, taking the candy. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now cover your ears," he muttered as he crossed to the door, "and I'll yell for our friend to let me out."

She growled as she watched him. "I really wish he wouldn't keep calling me 'Sweetheart'. Only Mike gets to call me that."

He stared at her for a long beat then smiled coldly. "I think I'll tell him that… see what he says."

Her face slowly lit up.

# # # # #

It was almost an hour and a half later before he left the motel room again. Over her Caesar salad and his bowl of 'homemade' vegetable soup, he told her his tale of woe, trying to keep the mood light even though the circumstances were far from frivolous. She knew what he was trying to do and appreciated the Herculean task.

Glancing at the Porsche with longing as he traipsed across the motel parking lot to the sidewalk, he began his quest to find Elmira Street. He wanted to appear casual, like he was just going for a stroll, hiding his darting eyes behind his dark glasses. He crossed to the other side of the street.

He knew there were streets parallel to the main drag, which was of course called Main, and he had a sneaking suspicion Elmira was one of these, which meant he had to wander down one of the cross-streets. How to do that and not raise eyebrows? he pondered. There was no good reason for him to do so; every place he needed to visit in a lawyerly capacity was on Main Street.

He slowed down when he got the first corner, taking a quick look in both directions. He could see the parallel streets but they were too far away to allow him to read the street signs. He growled silently to himself, debating whether to turn the corner or not, when an idea hit him.

Trying to suppress his sudden enthusiasm, he continued down Main Street at a slightly faster pace, a man on a mission.

# # # # #

Beside the cash in the general store was a stand with postcards of San Bernardino National Forest sites and, towards the bottom, brochures for local tourist attractions and businesses that catered to the tourist trade. He picked several of them up, flipping through them like any tourist would. In the third one, for a local fishing guide, he found what he was looking for: a map of Eldred.

He glanced at the young woman behind the cash and held up the brochures. "I'll just take these," he smiled and she nodded. Stuffing all but one into his inside jacket pocket, he stepped out onto the sidewalk again, moving away from the store window as he studied the map.

Elmira was two streets parallel to Main on the other side. With a triumphant grin, he headed in that direction.

# # # # #

Elmira turned out to be three blocks long, lined with small, modest pre-war houses on both sides. In an effort to blend in a little more, he had taken off his dark glasses and jacket, which he was carrying under his arm, rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt, and mussed his hair.

He glanced up casually at the first house he passed: 48. The next house was number 46. Great, he thought to himself, 7 was going to be all the way at the other end of the street, on the far side. He hadn't wanted to walk the entire length of Elmira but now he didn't have a choice.

He walked with his head down mostly, not wanting to be caught checking the houses out. As he crossed the intersection to the last block, he started to shoot quick glances towards number 7. As he got closer, he began to frown. Even from a few houses away, he could tell it was different from its neighbours.

The bushes around the small clapboard bungalow were overgrown, the grass long and unkempt; the windows were boarded up. Number 7 Elmira Street was abandoned.

'Well, that settles two things,' Steve grunted to himself; it certainly made 'being discreet' easier, if he was extremely cautious in his approach in the dark, but it also meant there wouldn't be a working phone for him to use.

With a disappointed sigh, he headed back to Main Street.

# # # # #

Mike heard the door open and tossed the end of the blanket over the phone book next to him. Leaning on the pillows his had stuffed behind him against the wall, his right foot on the bed and the pad braced against his thigh, he continued to write, ignoring Doris as she opened the cell door for his partner.

When she finally left the room, they looked at each other.

Grinning, Mike raised his eyebrows. "Have a seat, Watson, the game is afoot!"