Mike let go of his partner's trembling shoulders, allowing him a few seconds to snap back into police mode, before they'd take off for the Tenderloin.
He never knew much about Steve's family situation but the vagueness of his partner's responses when he brought up the topic made it obvious that it wasn't the best of relationships. And yet, despite the stress and anger this was causing, the young Inspector seemed intent on dealing with it in private.
Perhaps he was worried that Mike would shun him, or try and side with his parents.
Whatever reason Steve had for his secretive behavior about the whole situation, Mike hoped that it wouldn't interfere with his senses when it came to this case. Olsen had been right about one thing; they were both tired. Exhaustion would cause them to make mistakes. Add in some of the private turmoil both detectives were currently experiencing, and they would have a recipe for disaster on their hands.
Mike sighed and nudged Steve's shoulder one last time as he walked past toward the hallway, hearing the young Inspector grab his revolver and beige sportscoat a few feet back while fumbling with the car keys.
He'd barely reached for the door handle to leave the office, when Tanner called them back.
"Steve, I got another call for you."
Sharing an ominous glance with his young partner, who had just returned to his normal self, he let go of the door handle, before facing the African-American Inspector.
"Who is it?", they both asked in unison, causing Tanner to flinch, as he held on to the receiver of his black office phone.
"It's eh…Lieutenant Woods with NYPD. He said it's in regard of your call yesterday."
Mike watched his partner's features relax significantly, before Steve nodded in understanding and walked back to his desk, gesturing for him to follow along.
"Norm told me yesterday you wanted them to call up other police departments in big cities, to see if they knew of our killer. I helped them out while I was waiting to hear back from Clarence…"
Nodding, Mike followed his partner, absent-mindedly playing with the buttons on his shirt cuffs as he watched him pick up the phone.
"This is Inspector Keller?...Yes, Lieutenant…yes…oh perfect, that's great. Yes, we are unfortunately. No, only one witness statement so far…absolutely."
Balancing the receiver between his shoulder and ear, Steve pointed at the Teledex machine by Sekulovich's desk, that promptly began to print.
Perhaps a case break was imminent.
Strolling over to the machine vigilantly working overtime this morning, Mike recognized part of a police report being printed, along with a sketch drawing of a suspect. As he impatiently waited for the remainder of the information to arrive, he began to read parts of the report- and they read just like their current situation.
Several high-league mobsters being killed in the New York metro area over the last year, method of murder differing from case to case, yet similar in their gruesome fashion, the use of an electric device to subdue those the killer didn't want to murder…
Mike felt the heart in his chest beat faster as his mind began to put the puzzle pieces together. Realizing that his hunch had been right all along, he double checked the dates of the report, locations, names and anything else his mental databank could handle on this early morning.
By the time Steve joined him, the machine was done printing and he ripped the paper off the tray to take a better look at their suspect. Despite the picture being somewhat hazy from the transmission, he could make out the cold eyes that the sketch artist seemed to have put emphasis on. An edgy jaw and refined nose matched what DeSoto had told him about the Russian heritage.
"I think we might have hit gold on this one…", Mike breathed when Steve joined him, lowering the paperwork so that the young Inspector could look at it, "MO fits, victim circle fits, seems to me like he just switched locations."
"They don't know anything about this guy besides the picture. No one has any idea where he came from, what his background is or who he works for…"
"Then it's about time we solve that mystery, Buddy Boy. There's nothing that irks me more than a guy walking around my city thinking he can kill people and get away with it."
Next to him, Steve glanced at the sketch drawing as if he'd seen a ghost. Mike noticed his eyes glaze over for a split-second, before the young Inspector bit his lip.
"That's him alright."
"Are you sure? Are you remembering that encounter from yesterday?", Mike pried, surprised by the level of certainty in his partners words.
"I've seen him in a dream…", Steve explained in obvious discomfort, "I don't know if it's part of my memory coming back or if I have lost my mind for the time being, but I swear to you that's our guy right here."
"That's good enough for me."
Smiling at his partner reassuringly, Mike returned his attention to the paperwork and pursed his lips, trying to concentrate through the many thoughts flooding his mind.
"Let's suppose this guy is a hitman by trade…he did a job in New York, now somebody over here hired him to clean the Northside…the question is who could be that guy?"
Steve had crossed his arms, using his right hand to scratch his chin deep in thought, when he suddenly froze in place.
"Maybe it's the same guy…Think about it, Mike…there's been so much change and power struggles happening here…"
Clenching the paper in his hand tightly, Mike let his eyes drift over the information for the fourth time, embedding every last detail into his mind, as he thought about his partner's suggestion.
"So somebody starts out cleaning the town of pesky mobsters in New York, then takes his prized killer with him to the west coast to do the same? Why the jump?"
Taking the bait for the energetic dialogue Mike had invited him to, Steve leaned against the table holding the Teledex.
"Expansion of family? Expansion of territory? Better access to global ports, especially the Asian market when it comes to drugs…"
Mike nodded proudly, before pointing toward the exit to the bullpen.
"Want to know what I would do to find that out, Buddy Boy?"
Steve looked up at him hesitantly, before flashing a cheeky grin.
"This is going to be one of those Mike Stone idioms, isn't it?"
"Oh, you are way off this time…", Mike teased and handed the paperwork back to his partner, "Call your buddy in New York back. See if they have any indication of which mobster families were left after the killer went through their town. And see which ones could have fled to the west coast. Process of elimination…"
"I could also use our list of victims to cross reference against common family feuds that have been going on over on the east side when this all started…", Steve added and put the paperwork under his arm.
"That's a great start. Get those answers and I will head down to see Nancy about the results from the bloodwork, then let's hit the road."
"Hold it…she said she'd call us once she had any results…", Steve nudged with a wily smile, as he strolled back to his desk, before placing the revolver in his corner drawer.
"Well, you've been keeping the phone lines busy, maybe she tried to get a hold of us and couldn't. It would be a detriment if we sat here waiting for her to call when she's been holding the clues for us for hours…I better go doublecheck."
Steve never lost his grin when he turned back around and put his nose up in the air.
"What is that I am smelling…oh I recognize the smell. You are full of it again, Mike."
Enjoying the thorough belly laugh as he walked out of the bullpen, he decided to turn around once more, unwilling to let his young partner win that round.
"Oh, one other thing. When I get back, let's stop by your place first so you can shave. That two-day stubble is bringing out the gray hair on the edges, Buddy Boy."
Unable to contain his laughter when Steve stopped in his tracks and ran the back of his fingers across his jaw in obvious horror; Mike left the bullpen and headed toward the elevator on his way to the coroner's office.
By the time he reached the ground level, he was still wiping the tears from his eyes chuckling.