Contrary to their arrival a few days ago, their drive back to Indianapolis was spent mostly in silence, as both detectives reflected upon the unceremonious end to their latest case.
The angry monologue Amy had bestowed upon them on their way to the nearest State Police Post and County Jail had lasted agonizingly long, covering everything from a difficult childhood to "city folk" encroaching on her precious small town and destroying its morals right down to a generational decline in religion and the value of life, all of it being the sole cause for Rory Darr's death.
Mike was almost happy when they finally reached the state line to drop off their outspoken cargo, his mind ready to begin the paper trail for Amy Morrison's indictment to ensure a solid case. After a long phone call with Roy, they'd waved the option to extradite their murder suspect and instead, left the case where it belonged, in the same state that the actual murder occurred.
Pending the outcome of Daniels hospital stay, it was Mike's plan to charge him with accessory after the fact, leaving Barry Sanders to run the Nappanee Police Department until a fitting replacement could be found. In the interim, ISP would be taking over the responsibility of answering 911-calls from the area.
They'd send a forensics lab crew down to the slaughterhouse, hoping to find additional evidence to further Amy's case and bring some form of closure to Mickey Darr. Judging by the brief phone call he'd had with the man as he explained their findings and the circumstances of Rory's death, Torri Sanders words had held true, showing a severely distraught man who hadn't given it any second thought when his son disappeared for nearly two weeks.
A man who would now spend the rest of his days in deep regret.
The father inside Mike couldn't understand Mickeys relationship to his only son, the sole piece of family he'd left after his wife died. The other part, the seasoned Lieutenant, knew that things like love and family meant something different for everybody.
In the meantime, Steve had been on the phone with the Indiana Ag Extension, starting the process for a recall of all the chickens processed after Rory Darr's body had been fed to them. The thought alone caused Mike to grow hesitant at eating poultry for quite a while.
Blinking when the setting sun hit his eyes, causing his headache to return with a vengeance, the Lieutenant let out an involuntary groan that wasn't lost on his partner.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, I'm alright.", Mike answered cantankerously, then smiled to make up for the irritable tone of voice, "Are you alright?"
Showing off his immaculate charming smile, Steve shook his head, hesitating before he answered.
"I'd be lying if I said I am not looking forward to taking that vacation day you robbed me of pretty soon. Like, maybe tomorrow."
"Who said you can take tomorrow off?", Mike asked facetiously, nearly falling into a loud laughter when Steve stared at him in horror, "If we learned anything from this case, it is that injustice doesn't take breaks. And who's going to write all the reports to get the indictment finalized for the district court?"
"Aw Mike, come on now. I've been working without a day off for almost a month. I've…I've got laundry to do. And bills to pay. And my car. It's on its last leg if I don't get that transmission fixed."
"Alright, alright. Maybe I'll consider your request if you can get us out of this horrific traffic anytime soon."
His soothing voice and broad smile caused Steve to freeze in his tracks, before glaring at him in feigned anger.
"You are…you are something, you know that? You are bad, Mike. Really bad!"
Breaking into an uncontrolled belly laugh, the Lieutenant leaned back in the bench seat, as they approached Indianapolis. Three days of life in the countryside had made Mike appreciate the open skies and quietness more than he could imagine. As his eyes fell onto the passenger side mirror still dangling against the door and held up by a few pieces of tape Steve had used to keep it from completely falling off; the Lieutenant couldn't help but look forward to returning to his home turf and a small, albeit fleeting feeling of normality.
"Tell you what, Buddy Boy…", he then said and leaned back to close his eyes for a few treasured moments of rest before they'd reach the airport, "I'll give you two days off if you can summon all your charm one last time and convince the rental agency not to charge us for the damage to the car."