The front door opened with a creak, allowing Mike to see inside the bare entrance area. A single, unused coat hanger decorated the plain white walls. Off in the corner he noticed a worn-out pair of office shoes.

Swallowing his unease while keeping one hand over the .38 on his right hip, Mike carefully entered the foyer, trying to peek around the doorway into the rest of the house.

A short hallway led into a reasonably large kitchen area that looked equally underused, except for a coffee maker and some condiments off on the counter.

"Erica? Are you home?", he tried, surprised at how much his voice echoed through the house, "This is Lieutenant Mike Stone. I want to talk to you."

As expected, there was no response. Taking one step deeper into the house, Mike made out the large windows overlooking the unkept backside of the building, hoping to see a sign of Steve but failing to do so.

"Erica? I really think we should have a talk. We're here to help you."

As he entered the kitchen, Mike drew in a deep breath at the sight of an empty box of ammunition hidden behind the sink in a hurry, the small writing on it indicating they were for a .32 caliber gun.

Slowing down for a moment, the Lieutenant fell completely quiet, his ears queued to any noise that could give away Holmer's hiding spot. When nothing but the sound of blood rushing in his ears could be heard, he made his way toward the adjacent living room, noting the olive couch that had been pushed away from the window overlooking Harrison Street.

The wall on the opposite side was decorated like a shrine, displaying pictures of happier days, including wedding pictures of Jim Holmer and his wife. Off to the right, on a small commode sat the standard letter from the Chief of Police, along with Mayor Thompson, expressing their sorrow for the untimely death of the young and promising Homicide Inspector.

A vase containing an assortment of plastic flowers sat right next to it, along with a little black frame containing Holmer's retired badge.

As a wave of guilt flooded his senses for them umpteenth time when it came to the tragic incident three years ago, Mike bit his lip, reminding himself that Erica Holmer's action had only added more heartbreak and drama to the terrible situation by killing three innocent men, none of them having anything to do with what happened to Jim.

And while he couldn't prevent the young Inspector's murder in the first place, he was intent on stopping Erica in her tracks, before more blood could be shed to avenge a past that was impossible to change.

Mike was about to walk toward the narrow staircase leading to the bedrooms up above, when he felt the unmistakable shape of a revolver barrel in his back.