By the time the DMV file had made its long journey up to the 4th floor of the Hall of Justice building, Steve had long learned about the dark green '68 Pinto registered in McMillan's name. And equally as fast, his APB had yielded a match to the abandoned car being found down on Church and 22nd.
The proximity to Erin McMillan's apartment wasn't lost on Steve's busy mind that morning.
Glancing over at his partner, he found Mike deeply engrossed in their case file, as if to suck the truth right out of the paper in front of him. Wearing his black reading glasses as he intently stared at the coroner's report, the Lieutenant seemed miles away, and yet keenly aware of his surroundings at all times.
With a faint smile, Steve shook his head, deciding to leave his partner to his deep thinking as he got up from his desk, stretching his legs for a moment and heading over to the file cabinets. Somewhere in the depth of his mind, he remembered a robbery/murder case from several years ago, the seven or eight victims being strangled to death before thrown into the bay.
Even if it wasn't their killer this time around, he could still be a copycat.
Steve crossed the busy bullpen, nodding at Haseejian who was in the middle of a phone call, noticing a box of doughnuts left on Art's desk, the assortment thoroughly picked over by now and reduced to only fat-free or cream cheese types; Lessing and Tanner sharing the bulk of some research Dan had unceremoniously dropped on their desks earlier, both Inspectors bent over the mountain of files, trying to decide where to start.
It was the everyday, low-level frenzy of an office full of dedicated men bearing the brunt of some of the worst crimes humanity could dream up.
Steve sighed, feeling a chill run down his back as he approached the gray metal wall that held so many harrowing tales of suffering, countless vile murders, some of them unsolved to this day. He never stopped wondering just how many lives were summed up in those large file cabinets that seemed so neat and organized to the unsuspecting outsider, their dark secrets only accessible to the few souls working the Homicide department.
Although he couldn't recall the exact case number, his visual memory told him the file was located in one of the top drawers near the east wall by the office entrance. The gruesome murder case had fallen into Haseejian's and Haley's hands, but given the gravity of the case, Mike had taken a partial hiatus from their investigation at that time to help the two Inspectors out.
The case had been closed, Steve knew that much, but wanted to see what had happened to the killer, hoping to do so without disturbing either Mike or Norm in their intense workflow.
The young Inspector had spent several minutes looking through case files, when he heard the door to the bullpen open ever so carefully, giving sight of a middle aged-woman, her brown hair tied up in a neat bun and hidden beneath an elegant blue cloche. Clasping her black leather purse tightly, the small-framed lady seemed disoriented.
"Can I help you, Ma'am?", Steve offered politely, noting her flinch at the unexpected voice coming from the corner of the vestibule.
If the immaculate make-up and expensive maroon skirt paired with a lilac silk blouse were any indication, the out-of-place lady was either looking for help in a murder investigation, or got off on the wrong floor of the building.
"Ehm yes…I am…I am looking for Lieutenant Michael Stone? The guard downstairs told me I might find him here."
Instantly intrigued, Steve raised his eyebrows, before gesturing towards his friend's office across the bullpen.
"Sure…", he said smilingly and parked his files on the cabinet, steering the lady past the maze of desks, "His office is right here…"
At the approaching voices, Mike glanced up from his report, his eyes growing wide in surprise for a fraction of a second, before a broad grin lit up his features.
"Tre! What are you doing here?"
Noticing that the warmth in his voice was going beyond professional courtesy, Steve decided to stay around for a moment, watching the rekindling with shameless curiosity.
As if she was perfectly comfortable doing so, the lady stepped forward, accepting a tight hug from Mike that lasted a few moments longer than it should, before the Lieutenant grasped her shoulders and glanced down at her with an expression that suggested many fond memories.
"I heard your name make the rounds in the office several times since last night, so I thought I'd come by for a courtesy visit.", she said cryptically, the smile making her bright red lipstick shine in the light of the mid-morning sun.
Looking up when he sensed the young Inspector's eyes on him, Mike released the hug awkwardly, then gestured his chin toward Steve.
"Tre, this is my partner, Inspector Stephen Keller. Steve, this is Theresa Summers. She and I go…we go way back."
Smiling, as he reached forward to shake the lady's delicate hand, the young Inspector left a mental note to ask Mike about his definition of "way back".
"Nice to meet you, Misses Summers."
"Miss.", came the instant correction, that made him raise his eyebrows for a second time since meeting her, and Steve cocked his head in acknowledgement.
"My apologies, Miss Summers."
Mike had picked up on his partner's prying, the set of blue eyes boring holes in his skull, silently warning him to back off. It was a reaction that made him even more eager to dig into the matter.
"So, how can we help you, Tre?", the Lieutenant then asked warmly, as he sat down on the corner of his desk, hands quietly resting in his lap.
"Well, I need to talk to you, Michael. In private, please."
Her request had been stern, with a hint of aggravation mixed in between the words.
Catching the proverbial drift, Steve took a step out of the office, ready to close the door when his eyes fell on the nearby clock.
"Mike, I gotta head over to the High School to talk to Erin McMillan.", he reminded the Lieutenant, seeing a mixture of understanding flood his features, even some regret for not being able to join him.
"Go ahead and take Norm with you. Let me know how it goes. And be careful, Steve."
Be careful…the Mike Stone axiom for keeping up ones' guard, go easy on information released, try to get the interviewee to conflict themselves, and to 10-20 frequently.
Given the interesting situation unfolding in his partner's office at this point, Steve felt like reminding him of the exact same thing.