"I don't know, Michael. Just reading through this thing gives me the creeps. I appreciate your dedication to finishing your friend's case but we do have our own load of work to do here."
Mike swallowed hard, having expected the protest.
As such, he nodded calmly, one hand resting on his crossed leg, the other one pointing at the sole picture on Olsen's cluttered desk; the one showing his daughter and grandson.
"Little Kevin Saunders is still missing. If he's alive, don't you think we should use every available unit that we have to try and find him? God only knows what this killer has done to him already."
"Yeah, I remember seeing that alert come through the channels when it first happened.", Olsen acknowledged and ran a hand over his balding head, stopping for a second to scratch his scalp, "But haven't they tried everything already? What makes you think that you and Keller can crack an 8-month old case that's already been investigated from every imaginable angle?"
With a smug grin, Mike leaned forward to take a sip of coffee, then straightened back out in the guest chair.
"Stephen and I good at this kind of stuff, Rudy. You know it and I know it."
Sighing, the Captain of Homicide shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Of course, you'd say that. Are you absolutely sure about that? You and Keller just went through hell walking into that night club shooting. That sort of…well…that sort of scene can trick the mind, you know? Are you sure you're not doing that for some ulterior reasons that should be best handled with taking a few days off?"
Keeping his expression stoically unchanged, Mike shook his head.
"I want to find that boy. It's the best way I can honor my friend's legacy. As long as this killer is on the loose, there's a chance he will strike again, next time maybe even in San Francisco."
"And Keller is on board with that?"
Olsen's voice had grown suspicious now, his blue eyes piercing Mike's, looking for any signs of insecurity and finding none.
"I gave Stephen the choice to help out on another case up here or join me in this one. He was adamant about helping me."
Olsen ran a hand across his chin, his gaze drifting back to the thick file on his desk, thirty-five years on the job giving him that same uneasy feeling about this they all shared.
Then, with a sigh, he pushed the file back toward Mike.
"Those guys in Burlingame are going to think we've turned soft after all these years, helping them out with their case load while we're drowning in our own. Very well, Michael, you got it. Under one condition."
His head snapped to attention and Mike glanced up, meeting his superior's stern glare.
"I am going to tell you right now, I don't like this case one bit. It reeks of more drama than I care to handle. And small-town politics. And danger, a lot of it. You're talking about a guy who butchered two people in cold blood like it's nothing, then kidnapped a kid. We don't even know if that little boy is still alive. Work this case, as you wish, but if things get out of hand, if there's just the tiniest iota of a chance that it's getting too close for comfort for either one of you, I am ordering you to pull back. There's enough blood on these pages already. I don't want you guys to add some of your own."