Devitt took his time walking up the stairs to the DeHaro house, dreading the news he was about to give Jeannie as much as the few occasions when he had to inform next of kin of a death in their chosen line of work.
As he exited the blue LTD, he'd briefly nodded at Morrison's two officers still diligently watching over the property, their heads undoubtedly clouded with the news of the horrific explosion this morning that had claimed two of their own, wondering if they'd be next on the list.
By now, Conden would be busy getting the Feds involved, hoping the additional manpower and jurisdiction would help them find Mike, Steve and Gifford before they would share the fate of others who had stumbled upon the cartel.
Cartel…Devitt snorted at the thought. How come they even called it a cartel? Nobody knew exactly who in the hell they were dealing with. No positive ID had been made. There was no camera footage to date depicting their killers. No fingerprints. No association to other syndicates.
The only thing they had to show for were shadows to chase, assumptions that had been made and people who'd disappeared without a trace.
And the longer they sat here spinning their wheels, the greater the chance that this case would result in even more fatalities, sacrifices that Devitt wasn't willing to make.
When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he drew in a deep breath, turning around to glance at the city at his feet, the frighteningly large haystack they were digging into hoping to find the needle, the countless possibilities that they would be too late, despite their best efforts.
It made the stabbing and burning pain from his stomach ulcer return with a vengeance.
Sighing quietly, Devitt knocked on the door, three times, just like he'd always done when Mike and he were still partners.
"I'm coming!"
Rapid footsteps from inside signaled Jeannie approaching and Devitt straightened out, hoping to keep his expression guarded despite the nature of his visit.
The door was unlocked from the inside, making his heart skip several beats, before it slowly swung open, giving sight of Mike's beautiful daughter.
Dressed in a casual blue sweater, her hair was down, touching her shoulders and accentuating her high cheek bones.
"Roy? What are you doing here?"
There it was.
The foreboding fear in her voice, that smile that disappeared and turned into a frown, the haunting shadow washing over her bright blue eyes, the subtleness with which she lowered her shoulders, bracing for impact.
And as much as Roy knew that Mike would want for him to be the bearer of bad news, it broke his heart doing so.
"Jeannie, I need to talk to you for a moment. Can I come in please?"
Drawing in a shuddered breath, Jeannie just stood there, frozen in place, unable to move.
"Roy, where is Mike?"
"That's what I need to talk to you about, hun. There's been…there's been some unplanned developments in his case. And I need for you to hear it from me, before you hear it on the news. So…can I come in please?"
With her entire body beginning to tremble, one hand in front of her mouth to stifle a gasp of fear, Jeannie nodded carefully, then opened the door wider to let him in.
Feeling as though the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, Roy entered the living room of the DeHaro house, prepared to spend an indefinite amount of time holding onto a crying Jeannie.