Monsters

by Farmer847

A single phone call pulls our two favorite San Francisco Homicide Detectives into the depth of an unsolved crime so sinister that the locals would rather see it buried in the back of an old file cabinet, never to be mentioned again. What will it take for Mike and Steve to fight off the monsters along the way to seek justice for the victims, no matter the cost?

24. Chapter 24

He'd been able to make up for some lost sleep for most of the night, and yet, around 4am, Steve woke up with a start, unable to regain the level of comfort and peace to return back to dreamland.

Instead, he'd stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the Saunders case.

That quiet, nondescript house on 855 South Hunt Drive held a plethora of dark secrets, all of them eluding their grasp at the moment for one frustrating reason or another.

Little Kevin…where in the heck should they start looking for him after all this time? Was that poor boy even alive still? Or worse, did he suffer a similar fate like his parents, the unspeakable deed done far away from his home?

It had been those disturbing thoughts that had finally pushed him out of bed and into the shower, before heading to the office a couple hours early.

At least it would allow for him to get a head start on today's issues, see how many fires he could put out before he'd discuss their next steps with Mike.

Mike…his best friend's struggle with this whole situation still weighed heavily on his heart.

Crimes against children were the worst and their current case was starting to unfold into a man-made nightmare of epic proportions. Steve had no idea how Mike managed to sleep at the moment, knowing how well the Lieutenant could hide his deepest feeling even from his best friend.

And he knew well enough that there was no stronger force in this universe than Mike Stone trying to fight for a child's life.

Steve reached across the seat to grab his belongings from the passenger side of the Porsche, then got out, instantly being greeted by the cold brisk air of the underground parking garage.

A few cars were here already, including Sekulovich's and Tanner's, while Mike was still absent.

It was a selfish and juvenile thought, but for once he was hoping for a warm, fresh box of sinkers awaiting him in the bullpen.

Walking over the guarded entrance door at a steady pace, Steve narrowly missed the small group of people heading his way, their leader being the only one he recognized.

"What are you doing here?", Steve asked, feeling his voice begin to tremble with agitation, "Who let you in here?"